


Maybe She Just Hit 'Fuck It'

by Wolf_Wizard



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Daryl Dixon x Reader, F/M, I think some people might hate it but i think it's a fitting end., Multi, This came to me in an incredibly weird dream, but I have planned an ending, but trust me, it's fun-ish and cute for the first fifteen, it's not for a while still, it's taken on a life of it's own and I can't stop it, this crazy train has no god damn breaks, this shit gets angsty near the end.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2020-01-04 21:05:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 38
Words: 97,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18351707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolf_Wizard/pseuds/Wolf_Wizard
Summary: Starts at the Season one finale and continues onThe Reader finds herself working a literal dead end job at the CDC when the dead start coming back to life. Her mentor believes it'd be best to stay, and wait for the building to run out of power and combust, but when a group of strangers shows up, she's given the chance to escape with them. Will a make-out prompted by the thoughts of a woman on death's door lead to something more once she's out in the wastes with a handsome redneck?





	1. A Dash of Hope.

 

(y/n)- your name

(l/n) – last name

(n/n) -nickname

(h/c)- hair color

(y/n) (l/n) never truly believed in God or divine intervention. She was a woman of science and fact, and the fact was that she found herself quite literally trapped in her career. As the only living intern left in the CDC emergency center, she was quickly promoted to Dr. Jenner’s Assistant. For a time, they were incredibly close. She’d even considered him a father figure of sorts for a while. Now, however, there was a rift between them. They argued and disagreed constantly over one thing: Freedom.

(y/n)--or (n/n), as she liked to be called, wanted nothing more than to open the doors to the outside world and try to survive out in the wastes. Jenner disagreed, stating that it was far more rewarding to stay in the bunker for as long as they could and just let it end once the power ran out. Seeing as he was the only one with authorization to give orders to VI, (n/n) was stuck. Recently, she’s been shirking her work to just sit in the rec room and read. What was the point? They were the only ones left anyways.

Unless you counted those people outside who would occasionally cross into the sight lines of the CDC security cameras. They were desperate and scared, but at least they had a fighting chance to survive. She had no chance whatsoever. She sighed, shaking her head at the dark thoughts still lingering in her mind, turning her attention back to the book in her hands; Pride and Prejudice, a personal favorite of hers. A story about a confident woman who knows her own mind, and the quietly blunt man who falls in love with her.

Before she could immerse herself any further, she heard VI announce a contamination breach in the lower laboratory levels. She felt herself jump up in concern. Yes, they were at odds, but she didn’t want Edwin hurt. She rushed in the direction of her mentor, and only living friend.

~~~

When (y/n) reached the lab, she found Dr. Jenner scrubbing himself down in the biohazard shower. His fists were red, from having obviously beaten on the wall in frustration. She leaned in the doorway and waited for him to speak. When he didn’t, she spoke up herself, Southern accent thick on her tongue.

“That was the last viable sample we had.”

He nodded silently.

“What are you gonna do now, then?”

The stream of water shut off, and he looked up at her, water dripping from his hair and clothes. “I’m going to drink, (n/n).”

(y/n) rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah, because that’s a productive use o’ the rest of our time.”

“What do you want me to do? Our work is destroyed.” Jenner responded, moving past her back towards the main control room.

“You know exactly what I want you to do, don’t pretend this is the better alternative. You’re just goin’ to sit here and drink yourself into a coma? Y’aren’t even going to try and fight? You didn’t ‘opt out’ when things got rough the first time, so why are you doin’ it now?” She challenged as she followed him up the stairs.

“Because that’s not a life worth living out there. That’s not a life I want for you, (n/n). You’d get chewed up and spit back out and you are too good, too sweet, and too brilliant to deserve that.” He said as he made his way through the kitchen cabinets.

“You don’t know that for sure. That’s not somethin’ you just get to decide for me.”

“Actually, as your superior, it is.” Finding a few unopened bottles of wine, he popped the top on one before offering another bottle to her.

“No. You know I don’t like bein’ inebriated.” (y/n) responded, pushing the offered bottle away.

Jenner shrugged in a ‘suit yourself’ gesture before pouring himself a glass. “More for me.”

 ~~~

She sat in the background of the video diary as Jenner recorded the events of the day. The more he spoke, the more unhinged and frantic he seemed to become. He was angry that this was how it ended, and yet he did nothing to change the outcome. (y/n) silently shook her head and vacated the room as Jenner finished the recording with “I’m probably going to kill myself tomorrow. But tonight, I’m going to get drunk.”

He permeated the statement by taking a long sip from his wine glass as (n/n) stormed back to her quarters. She was so fucking tired.

~~~

(y/n) laid awake, staring at the ceiling of her small bedroom. There were only about 48 hours left before the power went out completely. If she hadn’t been able to convince him yet, she doubted she was going to manage with the date getting so close. She half wondered if the only real reason he wouldn’t let her leave was that he was afraid of facing inevitable destruction alone. If that were the case, he was even more selfish than she’d thought.

As the thought left her mind, VI’s voice sounded through the bunker, announcing the opening of the lobby door. Her heart pounded. He was letting her out.

_Thank you, Edwin. Thankyouthankyouthankyou._

She’d had a bag prepared for weeks now, and she grabbed it from the corner in her room where it’d been waiting for her. She bounded her way to the elevator and began her ascent to the surface.

~~~

When she emerged from the depths and onto the ground floor, she paused. Dr. Jenner was standing, gun drawn in front of a rather ragged group of people. Six men, four women, and- oh God. Two kids.

(y/n) stared incredulously, the bag still slung loosely over her shoulder. “What the hell is goin’ on?”

One of the men carrying a crossbow in his arms pointed his weapon at her as she spoke.

Jenner ignored her, and continued to speak “You can stay, but I’ll need you all to submit a blood sample first.”

The man at the head of the group who stood in a bloodied and tattered sheriff’s uniform looked around at his people and nodded “Yeah, I think we can manage that.”

Jenner nodded, and swiped his card against the nearby keypad, “Once this door closes, it won’t open again.” Before putting in the code, and suddenly, (y/n)’s freedom slipped through her fingers.

She looked incredulously between the strangers and her mentor. Several in the group eyed her wearily, and she didn’t really blame them, she must have looked practically feral with the messy state of her outworn high ponytail and the heat in her gaze.

Jenner nodded to her “This is my assistant Dr. (l/n).”

The Sherriff introduced himself as Rick, as well as naming off the rest of his group, but (n/n) paid them no mind.

“You’ve gotta be kiddin' me with this.” She stated bluntly, motioning towards the group as she talked to Jenner, who moved past her to press the elevator button.

 The doors opened, and the group piled inside. Jenner held the door open for her, but she just stood outside shaking her head “(n/n), get in the elevator, we can talk about this downstairs.”

“No. Ya know what? I need some time to myself to process this, I’m goin' to take the stairs.” She fumed, forcing open the stairwell door roughly. “Un-fuckin'-believable.”

Before the door slammed back into place behind her, she heard Dr. Jenner as he spoke to the group. “Don’t mind her, she’s just a little scared. She’s a very sweet girl, I promise.”

She turned back, and stared through the small window in the door, locking eyes with the man who’d aimed a crossbow at her moments before. His stare practically pinned her to her spot on the staircase landing. She was only able to move again once the elevator doors shut and the eye contact was disrupted.

A shiver ran down her spine. The suspicion in his gaze had been off-putting. He’d looked at her as if he’d expected her to turn into a snake and bite him. It made her wonder what exactly he and his group had been throughout in the world that would force him to establish such a look.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly don't know how far along the story I plan on taking this, but I have at least all of season two's plot line mapped out in my head.


	2. Dazed and Confused

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader begins to grow anxious and guilty as time begins to run out, leading to a rather awkward and heated encounter out in the halls.

By the time (y/n) had made it all the way down the stairs her legs were burning, and so were her eyes, though for rapidly different reasons. What the fuck. Jenner spent all that time refusing to open the door for her. He refused to give her a chance to save herself, but the minute a group of strangers begs him for their lives he’s opening the door like it’s nothing.

And she was just supposed to be okay with that? To go along and act like he hadn’t just doomed all these people to death? It was cruel, really. To let those poor people into such a gilded bear trap. Because that’s what this was. A beautiful trap. Those people down there, they saw the lights, the security, the food, and hot water. They didn’t see the ticking time bomb that (y/n) knew was set to blow any day now.

And to taunt her with the open door like that, even if the path out the door was swarming with the undead, that was still such a smack to the face.

She’d never known Dr. Jenner to be needlessly cruel, but from her perspective, that’s what his gesture towards these strangers was.

She emerged from the stairs and managed to find the group and Dr. Jenner packed into the board room, seeing as the main lab had been burned to crisp hours prior.

“(n/n), great timing. Could you start to label and examine these blood samples, please?” he seemed professionally cheerful, though She could tell it was false. A façade. To keep the others from detecting the tension in the air.

With a huff and a nod, she got to work, picking up the already complete vial, that appeared to belong to Rick if the paper towel pressed to his arm was anything to go by.

“What’s the point? None of us are infected. If we were, we’d be running a fever.” The blonde woman currently having her blood removed stated in an annoyed tone.

Jenner and (y/n) shared a look before he responded

“I’ve already broken every rule in the book by letting you in here, at least let me be thorough,” He excused, “Alright, you’re all set.”

As the woman moved to get up, she staggered a bit before the dark-skinned woman caught her and ushered her back to her seat.

“Is she alright?” Jenner questioned.

“She hasn’t eaten in days. None of us have.” The woman responded gravely.

The blood samples continued, and (y/n) labeled each of the samples with the subject’s name in neat, clean lettering.

When the little girl had her blood taken, her mother stood with her, grasping her hand tightly. (y/n) really felt for them. They must have been so terrified for so long.

“How d’you spell your name, baby? Is that Sophia with an ‘f’ or a ‘ph’?”

(y/n) asked gently, garnering an uttering of “ph,” From her mother as the woman gazed at (n/n) with a look of pleasant surprise.

Ah. Her outburst earlier must have made her seem rather callus before.

“That’s a pretty name, Sophia. I always thought I’d name my daughter Sophia; if I ever had one. That’s pretty much a pipe dream now, though.” (y/n) continued with a wistful smile.

The two girls smiled brightly back at her during the pleasant exchange.

“well, you never know. You might still find love.” The woman, Carol, replied.

With a shake of her head, (y/n) spoke without thinking “I don’t think there’s going to be enough time for that.”

“What d’you mean by that?” Came a voice in a southern drawl even thicker than her own.

Looking up, she locked eyes with the piercing blue gaze she’d met at the elevator, and she felt just as singled out as she had the first time. Shoot. She’d almost let the ruse slip, huh? “I’m just… so busy. With the cure.” She supplied, breaking her gaze. Though she could still feel the eyes piercing her skin.

Once the blood had been submitted, Jenner escorted the group towards the dining area while (n/n) stayed behind to review the samples.

Once she’d painstakingly reviewed them and stored them as properly as she could given the state of their lab, she made her way back towards the others, rubbing at the bridge of her nose.

It was as they’d predicted. The pathogen was airborne. They were all infected, and the hope for a cure was all but dashed.

As she walked through the doorway, she could hear the group laughing and eating. Meeting the gaze of Dr. Jenner, she nodded the affirmative to his unspoken question and he seemed to sigh before the clink of a class called the attention of the room as Rick began to speak.

“It seems we haven’t properly thanked our hosts, yet.” He stated, standing up.

“they are more than just our hosts.” One of the others cheered, raising a glass to (y/n) and Jenner.

“Booyah!” came the boom of the man with the piercing gaze- Daryl, she recalled.

(y/n) found herself forcing back a smile at the ridiculous exclamation that was echoed by a few of the other members.

The man who’d given the sample she was told to label ‘Shane’ spoke up for the first time as far as (n/n) could tell as she moved to sit down opposite of her Mentor at the table.

“When are you gonna tell us what the hell happened, Doc? Where are all the other doctors?”

Rick reprimanded him, but he continued,

“We came here for answers, right? Well, we didn’t find those. What we found were these two. One man, and an angry little girl. Why?”

(y/n), being almost 28, felt a little slighted at her description but didn’t voice a protest as Dr. Jenner began to explain what had happened to the rest of the CDC.

“You didn’t leave,” The blond said after he’d finished, “Why?”

“I just kept working. Hoping to do some good.” He answered.

(n/n) fixed her gaze to the table.

The young man, Glen, broke the silence with the understatement, “Dude, you are such a buzzkill, man.”

~

 

The argument that ensued between Dr. (l/n) and Dr. Jenner after dinner was the most heated, they’d had to date. Whispered yells of betrayal and outrage answered by frustrated defenses culminated into the amalgamation that was to be the pair’s final private conversation.

“I can’t believe you would do somethin’ like this. It’s bad ‘nough you’ve doomed me without givin’ me a choice, but now you’ve brought in civilians. You’re not even goin’ to tell them, are you?”

He seemed like he wanted to respond, but all that he let out was a breath.

“Are You?” she pressed.

Looking over her shoulder, Jenner hushed her. As she followed his gaze, she came across Rick, stumbling into the control room in a fashion that told the two exactly how drunk the man was.

“(n/n), we can discuss this all later,” Jenner stated, obviously not wanting to argue in front of the man regardless of whether he’d remember.

“No,” (y/n) accused in a defeated tone, “We really can’t.”

She got to see his pained expression as she stormed passed Rick, ignoring his attempts to greet her. She really hoped her parting words stung.

~

(n/n) found herself wandering towards the Rec Room. When she arrived, she found that she wasn’t the only one who seemed drawn to the space. Both kids alongside Carol were sitting around, looking at the books and board games.

“Sophia, why don’t you find a book we can try and read together?” the older woman encouraged.

The girl wandered around the bookcase until her gaze lingered over to (y/n)’s favorite chair and the book that sat atop it.

“This one’s got a pretty cover.” The girl stated in a quiet voice as she held it up to her mom.

Carol thumbed through the pages, before coming across the bookmark (n/n)’d left in it.

“Oh, Sophie, someone’s reading this one.” She stated with a bit of disappointment.

“Ah, yeah, I am.” (n/n) pipped up.

With a startled jump, the woman turned to look at her. “Oh! Sorry, we-ah… I’ll put it back.”

The woman still seemed nervous. As if she were going to be reprimanded if she took even a toe out of line. (y/n) felt a bit sheepish, seeing as her first impression probably didn’t paint her in the best light, however, she got the feeling that that wasn’t the entirety of Carol’s reason for being so apprehensive.

“‘s alright,” (y/n) soothed, “I’ve read the darn thing ‘bout six times already. ‘bout time someone else gave it some love. Y’all keep it.”

Carol gave her a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

(n/n) gave an awkward shrug before backing out of the door towards her quarters.

“Don’t mention it.” She gave weakly, as she passed Rick’s wife on her way down the hall.

She needed a hot shower to wash away all this guilt. She might not have been the one to let them in, but she wasn’t informing them of the full scope of their situation, either. Her actions were just as despicable.

~

(n/n) scrubbed and scrubbed at her skin, as if she’d never been filthier, even though she’d probably been cleaner before she’d hopped into the shower than half the group was after they’d gotten out.

As she pondered this, the bathroom door burst open, and with a gasp (y/n) shut off the faucet and grabbed for her towel.

“Hey! Excuse me, did ya not hear the shower runnin’?” She mouthed as she wrapped the towel around herself and pulled back the curtain. Instant regret of her statement filled her as she met the eyes of Shane, who she noticed had bright red scratch marks across his neck.

He gave her a look so filled with venom she almost yelped. In fact, she probably would have, if his gaze hadn’t suddenly started trailing down her towel-clad body.

“I ah… I was done anyway.” She uttered, not taking her eyes from him as his gaze followed her collecting her discarded clothes, slowly backing out of the bathroom, and easing the door shut.

She began to make her way down the hall to her room when she turned and ran into a solid body. Namely, Daryl’s.

“Oops.” She offered him as she backed away.

She was aware that the man had drunk quite a bit during dinner, but surely, his cheeks were redder than they would have been from just the buzz. He wasn’t looking at her either, choosing instead to stare above her head. Oh right, she was still in a towel.

She moved to step around him, and he mirrored her, in an obvious attempt to step around her instead. They did this awkwardly a few more times, the man still choosing to look anywhere but at her. “I just- sorry I’ll-“

(n/n) tried to apologize before she was gruffly cut off by the command, “-I’ll move, you stay.”

She did as she was told, heat rushing to her cheeks at the tin of his voice. As soon as he was gone from in front of her, she began to move again before he spoke once more, giving her pause.

“What’s yer problem with us, by the way?” he called to her, “Why you so mad that we’re here?”

She turned around to see he’d collected himself enough to look her in the eye again, though his cheeks were still a bright crimson.

(n/n) shrugged, giving the cryptic answer, “I’m not mad that _you’re_ here.”

“Me specifically…?” She heard him question dryly.

Oops, she supposed, to someone unaware of her months-long plight that would be what her answer sounded like she was saying. His voice held the tone of incredulous doubt, but scanning his face, he seemed-- well, he seemed a little tipsy, to be frank, but also vaguely… interested. Maybe.

He scoffed “Yeah, uh-huh. Some Princess locked in her dungeon’s got some sorta interest in a dirty redneck who ain't got no fancy science degree. What the hell you tryin’ to pull?” he accused.

She shrugged, moving back towards him a bit, deciding to just go with it. She’d most likely be dead tomorrow evening. Might as well. “I dunno,” she started, her tone trailing off.

“Why?” he added to his interrogation.

She moved forward some more. “Well, ‘s been a while, end of the world’s here, maybe I just hit ‘fuck it’, you know?” she really got a look at the man now.

He was actually pretty good looking if she were being honest. With rugged features and a shirt that showed off the bulging muscles on his arms, there were certainly worse people she could have been stuck down here with, that’s for sure.

He had to tilt his chin down in order to keep his gaze on her face now that she was as close as she was. He seemed utterly confused as to how he’d gotten in this situation. She was kind of confused herself, but that didn’t stop her from moving her hand up to cup the man’s cheek as she rose to connect their lips. He jerked back slightly once, twice, before finally accepting to meet her embrace.

The contrast of his chapped mouth against her soft one was surprisingly pleasant, and slowly, Daryl began to pull her towards him. A thrill went through her body at the contact, and she licked at his lower lip asking for entrance. He obliged after another hesitant pause, though it didn’t last as long as the first one had, and suddenly the pair was all heat, as his hand came to her wet hair, tangling it in the strands.

Once their tongues met, however, it became apparent just how inebriated the man was. He didn’t let on, but from the heavy taste of alcohol on his tongue, it was obvious to (n/n) that Daryl Dixon was sloshed. ‘Drunk as a Skunk’ her father would’ve said.

That gave her pause. Yeah, she knew she wouldn’t regret doing… things with this man, but he was way too impaired to be able to judge whether or not he would come to regret this in the morning. As long as it had been since (y/n) had gotten laid—and it had been a very. Long. Time.—she was unwilling to take advantage of this poor and, judging by the way he’d been so hesitant before, usually shy and reserved man.

She pulled back, their lips separating with a slight ‘smack’ and she gave an unwilling hum as she parted from him. His eyes fluttered open as he felt her pull out of his hold.

“Wait didn’t you wanna… weren’t we... gonna-” he sounded even more confused than he’d looked about a minute ago.

“I do, and we were.” She assured, bending down to collect the clothes she’d dropped in the heat of their encounter.

“And we still will. Maybe. If you can remember this tomorrow, you know, once you’ve sobered up a bit.” She said, tossing the man a smile as she left him dazed and blushing in the middle of the bunker hallway.


	3. If Only My One True Love Was Waitn'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader is finally able to escape from the CDC, but will this truly be the freedom she was looking for?

Breakfast the next morning was light, the mood more chipper than it had been the evening prior.

Glen laid face down on the table, moaning as (n/n) plopped down a few Advil in front of him with a smirk. “Anyone else need some?” she teased the group. Daryl got up, wordlessly taking the bottle from her hand, and she flushed when his fingers brushed over hers a second.

“Do you remember anything from last night, Hon?” Jacqui asked sweetly, as she rubbed Glen’s back. The boy simply continued to moan.

It was easy to tell she was the caregiver of the group. Her interactions with the other members had never been anything but warm and nurturing so far as (y/n) could gather. A sad smile lingered on her face as she was reminded of how warm Candace, Jenner’s wife, used to be.

“I know I sure as fuck don’t. Remember officer buzzkill spoiling the dinner, then… nothing.” Daryl piped in.

That caught her attention. She looked over at him, but he was looking down, shoveling powdered eggs into his mouth, oblivious to her stare. Well, I guess that settled that.

(n/n) couldn’t deny it, she was more than a little disappointed he hadn’t been able to remember their encounter, especially considering how much space it’d been taking up in her own mind.

A few other people trickled in, including Rick, as T-Dog set a plate down in front of (n/n), and served her some eggs.

“Are you hung over?” Carl asked his father, “Mom said you’d be.”

“Mom’s right.” He grumbled, and Lori responded, saying she had that habit.

Seeing such a cute family dynamic surviving during the apocalypse was rather endearing, (y/n) had to admit that.

Too bad they’d be dead by the end of the day.

With that sobering thought on her mind, Dr. Jenner entered and gave a good morning.

“(n/n) … Good Morning.” He said again when she didn’t join the chorus of greetings.

She merely met his gaze and ate a forkful of eggs. Not in the mood to speak with him any longer.

Dale began to speak the minute both of the doctors were in the room, beginning to ask them questions.

After a bit of  avoidant banter on Jenner’s part, Andrea cut them off with the remark “We didn’t come here for the eggs.”

“Alright.” (y/n) conceded, standing up from the table. “Follow me.”

~

The group stood in a clump near the main monitor. As Dr. Jenner pulled up the playback of Candace’s death, waxing poetic about the brain, and the brilliance of the test subject. She honestly didn’t know how he could stand to be so dramatic when showing the recording of his wife’s death to a group of people who didn’t even know her.

When the bullet ripped through the skull on the screen, (n/n) whimpered, drawing the attention of a few of the people, “What was that?” one of them questioned.

“You shot your patient in the head, didn’t you?” Andrea accused. At her statement, most gazes turned to her instead, save for one. Daryl kept his stare on (y/n) as hot tears sprung from her eyes.

“You have no idea what it is, do you?” she continued before Jenner began to run through the list of theories they’d had up to this point.

“Or the wrath of God?” Jacqui added to the list.

“This ain’t nothin’ God did.” (n/n) replied darkly, wiping the tears away in a rough swipe.

“Man, I’m gonna get shit-faced drunk.” Daryl groaned. “Again.”

(n/n) mentally winced at the statement as she was once again reminded of the events of the previous night, and the looming fact that nothing would ever come of it.

“I hate to ask one more question but,” Dale stated, spying the countdown on the far wall, “What happens when that timer gets to zero?”

Jenner let the question linger before answering “The generators run out of fuel.”

(n/n) laughed mirthlessly before jumping down from her position on top of a string of monitors. “I can’t fuckin’ listen to this.” She spat before she stormed from the hall, hearing Vi announce the group’s fate to the quiet, dread-filled building.

~

The lights finally turned off about twenty minutes later. Much like the day before, (n/n) stared up at the ceiling, closing her eyes and taking in a shaky breath when she felt the heat from the bulbs disappear.

“what’s goin’ on? Why’s everythin’ turnin’ off?” she heard the slightly slurred call from out in the hall followed by more chatter.

So he _had_ gotten as drunk as he’d said he would.

She really hoped that wasn’t a habit of his. She found herself fretting over that possibility before remembering it'd only matter for about 40 more minutes.

Rolling out of bed reluctantly, she followed the herd of people out into the monitor room as Daryl continued to yell at the probably vague and ominous answers Jenner was so fond of dispensing.

“(l/n), Jenner, what’s goin’ on?” Rick demanded as he also began to follow behind the Doctor.

“We’ve hit the hour mark, and things are starting to shut down. right on schedule.” Jenner answered.

(y/n) hadn’t noticed that Jenner had taken the alcohol from Daryl, but she certainly noticed when he returned it, as the redneck yanked it out of her mentor’s grip and half the contents that had been left splashed onto the floor.

“It was the French. They were the last ones to hold out as far as I know. While our people were bolting out the doors and committing suicide, they kept working until the end. Thought they were close to a cure.” Jenner shared.

“What happened to them?” Jacqui asked, voice full of concern.

“Same thing happenin’ here,” (n/n) answered, voice defeated as she stepped to the front of the group, grabbing for the bottle in Daryl’s hand.  To her surprise, he let her take it, “The power grid ran outta juice.”

She paused to finish off the bottle before she finished her explanation. She wasn’t the biggest fan of the effects of alcohol, but damn it, she needed a drink right then. “Then, it exploded.”

Shane spoke up at that. “What?” before he stormed towards Jenner “Yo, what d’ she mean by-”

Rick didn’t let him finish. “I don’t care what she means. Everyone, grab your stuff we’re getting out of here, now!”

Before they could move, (n/n) watched Jenner input the lockdown code, as the alarms started to blare at the thirty-minute warning, and they were locked in the room by the security door.

The resounding panic echoed off the walls of the building as well as (y/n)’s brain. She felt the empty alcohol bottle being ripped from her hand, but all she could really focus on was that there hadn’t been enough left in the bottle to give her a buzz, so all she was left with was the smoky sting of the liquor on her tongue.

Looking around she noticed Rick holding Daryl back as he attempted to attack the Doctor with the bottle he'd taken back from her.

Jenner began to explain the finality of their position, ending the statement by saying “Once those doors close, they won’t open again. You heard me say that. It’s better this way.”

Rick began to argue back, but (n/n) cut him off in a huff, “good luck with that, Sherriff. I’ve been singin’ the same tune for a month. If he won’t listen to me the sixth-hundredth time I’ve said it, he ain’t listenin’ to you.”

Rick paused,  his glance lingering on (y/n)’s expression before turning back to Jenner. “What happens in thirty-eight minutes, exactly?”

With a breath, Jenner began to explain.

The absolute terror that seized through the group as Vi defined HIT was silent yet deafening.

“It sets the air on fire. No pain. An end to the grief, the suffering… the regret.” Jenner finished, in a whisper.

The shattering of the glass bottle against the security door was what got (y/n) to look up from the floor. Daryl was yelling again, anger boiling in his eyes.

“Open the damn door!”

Watching him and Shane yell and bash on the door with fire axes really negated her theory about Daryl being quiet and shy. she watched for a while, barely registering the conversation between Rick and Jenner, until Edwin said something that struck her.

“My wife, Candace. She was brilliant, she could have done something about this. Not me. I’m just Edwin Jenner.”

Turning to her boss, her mentor, her friend, her father figure… she reeled back and smacked him as hard as she could with the palm of her hand. The sound permeated the space, and the two ax wielders even paused to look at her.

“Candace didn’t die for this. She would have wanted us to fight. To at least try. I’d rather die out there an' become a Biter, knowin’ that I at least tried to survive first, instead of just layin’ down an' givin' up, and I know Candace would’ve wanted that, too.” She spoke evenly, but her limbs were as supportive as feather down.

“Your wife didn’t have a choice. You do. That’s all we want, a choice. A chance,” Rick pleaded.

“Let us keep trying as long as we can,” Lori added tearily as she clasped her son to her person.

Dr. Jenner let out a long sigh before muttering, “I told you, the top side’s locked down. I can’t open those.”

(y/n) watched on in disbelief as her mentor keyed in the override code, allowing the door to fly open.

“Come on!” she could hear Daryl yell as he made his way down the hall.

People started to move, rushing towards the exit, grabbing what they could carry. Almost on autopilot, (y/n) ran up the stairs to her room to grab her pack, still filled with what little survival supplies she could scrounge up and rushed all the way back to the monitor room. On her way out the door, Jenner called her name.

Looking back with a pause, she saw him and a few of the others in the group sitting around on the floor. He looked as if he was pleading her not to leave. She knew he didn’t want her to, that he wanted her to die in here with him, but still, she couldn’t just leave without saying goodbye. She rushed over, hugging him tightly around the neck before kissing his cheek “I’ll see you on the other side…ya know, maybe. If there is such a thing.” She said weakly.

“Good Luck.” He whispered back. That was all the goodbye they had time for.

(n/n) turned on her heel and bounded down the open corridor. Farther down the hall, she could hear the group yelling.

“Come on man, let the door close, we gotta go!” Shane cried, obvious distress in his voice.

“Hell no!  She’s comin’, an’ we ain’t just leavin’ ‘er here.”

Daryl. He was holding the door for her!

 _What a gentleman,_ she joked to herself.

Rounding the corner, the group spotted her and started to cheer, urging her to hurry. As most of the yelling today had gone, no one was louder than Daryl.

“C’mon, Princess! Get a move on!”

She ran through the stairwell door, beginning the long trek up the stairs, Daryl hot on her heels.

When they made it up to the lobby, the yelling started again as they began to force a way out, using the axes once again to pound on the windows.

“They’re military-grade shatter-resistant material, that ain’t gonna work, boys.” (y/n) supplied, out of breath.

“You got a better idea, Sweetheart?” Shane bit back

“I do,” Carol answered reaching into her purse and pulling out a hand grenade. Holy shit.

(n/n) had never been so attracted to and terrified of a woman at the same time as she was of Carol at that moment.

Everyone paused to look at (y/n) as if asking her for confirmation.

“uh... yeah, that should work, alright.”

~

Jenner and Jacqui sat quietly, watching the others on the monitors. They anxiously tracked the group’s movements out the broken window, and across the lawn to the cars. Edwin never took his eyes off the figure of his protégé, watching with relief as the redneck of the group helped her up into the pickup.

“They made it out,” he breathed in amazement.

“ _She_ made it out,” Jacqui assured him knowingly. Warm and nurturing to the very end.


	4. That Long, Dusty Highway.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl convinces the reader to stay with the group as the continue their journey, but how long will she be willing to stay? Will she ever tell him about what happened during that last night at the CDC?

(y/n) almost threw up when she saw the size of the explosion. She knew he was gone.

“y’alright, Princess?” came the voice from her left.

A nod and a stony expression was all he was rewarded with.

He didn’t try to get her to open up any farther as he started the engine and followed the rest of the motorcade back towards Atlanta.

They stopped at a rest area outside the city, using the time to siphon gas and look for supplies. Things were piled into the RV and shoved into the minivan as the group began to downsize their parade of cars to conserve fuel.

Though she had been traveling with them a bit, and she’d gotten to know a few of them in the short time they’d been in the CDC together, she felt a bit like a stow-away among these people.

They probably wouldn’t even notice if she just slipped away while they were all busy…

She was about to round the corner of the rest area when Daryl caught her. “Where the hell you think yer goin’?”

She turned around to face him, hands on her hips. “If you must know, I figured I’d part ways, an’ get out o’ your group’s hair.”

Daryl shook his head. “what, an’ head out on yer own? Without even knowin’ how the world works? You crazy ‘er somethin'’?”

“I’m a quick learner.” She defended.

“No one’s that quick, Princess.”

She shook her head in frustration, “Would you quit callin’ me Princess? It’s patronizin’.”

He shrugged “I think it suits you,” he looked her up and down before he continued, “An’ how d’you plan on defendin’ yerself?”

She pulled the pistol from the pocket of her bag to prove she’d thought it all through, “Well, I got this. There was a lot of ‘em lyin’ ‘round at the CDC.”

“lemme see that.” He demanded, holding out his hand.

With an unimpressed look, she placed it into his open palm. He began to run through the motions, checking the safety, the clip, and the barrel before giving her a nod.

“Alright, that’s good in a pinch, but noise attracts them bastards, so ya can’t just use it whenever ya see one or you’ll be overrun ‘fore ya can even think. Plus, ya only got six bullets, an’ I doubt you had time to practice yer pistol accuracy durin’ yer time runnin’ ‘round doin’ Brainiac shit. You even know the first thing ‘bout gun safety?” He hounded her. When she didn’t give a response other than rolling her eyes, he continued while putting her gun away on his person, “I’ll hold onto this ‘till you learn how to use it properly.”

With a growl, (n/n) stomped her foot. “How am I supposed to defend myself out here without a weapon?”

He shrugged, stepping to the side and gesturing to the rest of the group “Come with us, an’ you won’t hafta worry 'bout it.”

Before she could answer, Rick called out from the open window of the minivan. “Daryl! Dr. (l/n)! Let’s get a move on!”

(y/n) hesitated for a second before she brushed passed Daryl towards the rest of the group, “My doctorate ain’t doin’ me any favors out here, Sherriff. Just call me (n/n).”

“Well, alright then,” He acknowledged.

 (y/n) looked about, trying to determine where her new spot in the motorcade was now that the pickup was done for.

Hearing the rumble of a motorbike behind her, she spied Daryl on the back of one, and a part of her brain thought it wouldn’t be so bad on the back of a bike… pressed up against Daryl’s back…

“(n/n),” someone called.

Snapping from her thoughts, she turned to see Dale approaching her, a welcoming smile on his face, “We’ve got a spot in the RV for you if you want it.”

“Oh! Uh, Thanks, Dale.” She said half dazed from her past train of thought as she followed the older man into the RV and the group began to drive off.

~

They’d been driving down the highway a while now, (y/n) sitting in the passenger seat next to Dale, staring out the window at the road in front of them, or more specifically, the man on the road in front of them.

It was a damn shame he didn’t remember that night in the hall but as it was, she wasn’t inclined to remind him. She’d practically forced herself on him while he was too drunk to protest. How embarrassing is that?

From behind her Andrea and Shane talked about guns.

“The trick is getting all the pieces back together the same way. I could clean yours, Show you how.”

She could hear him fiddling with the gun bag on the floor, as he reached Andrea’s pistol.

Daryl’s words rang in her ears _‘you even know the first thing ‘bout gun safety?’_

She’d been annoyed at the time because he’d been calling her Princess, but also because he had a point. A big one. If she wanted to learn, she might as well jump on every opportunity presented to her.

“Daryl stole my gun, but would you mind showin’ me as well?” She asked, moving from the passenger seat to sit beside Andrea at the booth.

“If ya like.” Shane answered, handling the pistol in his hand, “This is a sweet piece.”

“It was a gift. From my father. He gave it to me before Amy and I took off on our road trip. He said two girls going off on their own should be able to defend themselves.” Andrea explained, her smile was warm, but sad around the edges.

“My daddy said the same thing to me, growin’ up. ‘cept instead of a gun, he just bought me martial arts lessons... I wish I’d kept up with those, now.” (y/n) answered her, smiling at the blonde after having found something in common.

“You girls got smart fathers.”  Shane supplied, before continuing with the gun lesson.

“Ah, jeez,” Dale sighed, as the RV slowed.

Looking around Shane to the highway beyond, (n/n) could see a sea of cars out in front of them as well as a truck tipped over on its side, blocking the way.

After a moment’s hesitation, they were able to find a way to weave through the cars, Daryl back at the front of the motorcade, weaving a safe path. That worked for a small stretch, and the group stared out in silence at the destruction of the traffic jam surrounding them. The RV’s hose bursting hadn’t been expected, and if T-Dog hadn’t been behind to catch her, (y/n) would have fallen on her ass from the sudden shock of the loud noise.

As the group piled out of the vehicles, Dale began to moan, “I said it, didn’t I say it? Dead in the water.”

“Is this a problem, Dale?” (n/n) asked, still a little shaky from the small scare she’d had earlier.

“Oh, nothing just the issue of us being stranded in the middle of nowhere with no hope of,” Dale paused to look around at the immense number of cars surrounding the group, “yeah, ok that was dumb.”

Daryl had already begun to dig through the back of one of the cars as the others began to make a list of things they could scavenge along the highway.

“This is a graveyard.” Lori pointed out, wearily. Causing the group to look around silently, “I don’t know how I feel about this.”

“Well,” (n/n) said, placing a comforting hand on the woman’s shoulder, “ _I_ feel like it’s the only reliable spot to find resources we’re gonna have for a while. We need to get some food into your boy, an’ into Sophia.”

With that, the rest of the group began to scavenge around. And though Lori still didn’t like the idea of disturbing the dead, she didn’t voice any other protest knowing (y/n) was right, and that her son needed to eat something soon.

As the others all scavenged, (n/n) volunteered to keep a lookout for walkers. She stood atop the RV with a pair of binoculars, all but cooking in the hot sun as the others scavenged and fixed the truck.

After a while, Dale came up beside her to help with the lookout.

“Here, (n/n), you’re going to burn. Take my hat.” He said offering it to her as she looked over the horizon

“No, no Dale. You keep it. I’m fine. I haven’t seen the sun in five months, reckon I could use a little Vitamin D.

“Alright, if you’re sure.” He conceded.

A short pause came before (n/n) added “not that I don’t ‘preciate the company, Dale, but I got it covered over here. Why don’t you keep the binoculars, and set up somewhere we can have a different vantage point?”

 After multiple assurances that yes, she was sure she’d be fine, she handed him the binoculars, and he proceeded to climb back down to try to find a vantage point a little further down the road.

“Hey,” She suddenly heard Shane call, “were we short on water?” he asked before popping the top on a large jug in the back of a truck and hung his head under the stream that poured out., “It’s like getting baptized, man.”

“Save me some!” Glen cheered

“That’s the first shower you’ve had in a week, Shane.” (n/n) joked from the rooftop.

She at times got bad vides from the man, for instance, the night she’d fled from him in the bathroom, but most of the time he seemed to genuinely care for the safety of the group. (n/n) had managed to begin a friendly rapport with him despite their rocky start, and now she’d sometimes poke at him with friendly barbs like the one she’d just thrown.

Despite her initial feeling of isolation and misplacement in the group at the beginning, the group had soon begun to get used to her presence and she had since been fully accepted. On that front, she was rather relieved. She’d been fearful they’d mistrust her based on the near-death experience they’d all faced at her old workplace, but it seemed they all recognized that she’d been just as trapped and frightened in there as they’d been, and for that she was grateful.

She was pondering these thoughts fondly, and things really seemed to be going well, especially with Shane’s latest discovery, but as things tend to go with this group, as soon as things seem like they’re on the up, something happens. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Dale hit the deck on top of the truck he’d climbed, and fully turning to look, she sees the herd of walkers about to descend on the group and follows Dale’s example, after ensuring that Rick is aware of the situation.

From where she was lying, she could peer into the skylight of the RV. Andrea sat in the booth, trying to figure out how to put her gun together. As quietly as she can, (n/n) tried to catch her attention, but before she can manage, the blonde is already looking out the window, and noticing the heard now on top of them.

She dropped to the floor in a panic, and looked out the skylight, locking eyes with (n/n), both sharing the same panicked expression.

Spying something in the doorway, Andrea grabs for the pieces of her gun before moving her way into the bathroom, and (n/n) can only watch idly as a walker enters the RV milliseconds after she closes the bathroom door.

The walker wanders a bit, and (y/n) almost whips open the skylight when she sees the walker move towards the door Andrea is behind, but it soon moves on, and (n/n) lets out a breath too soon. The walker pauses in the doorway, and moves back towards Andrea, now pushing on the door to the bathroom forcefully, and (n/n) can only be relieved about the fact that the other walkers are too far gone to hear Andrea’s muffled screams.

(y/n) pries at the skylight desperately, finally getting it open, and quickly dropping onto the table of the booth, doing her best to sneak up behind the thing.

Andrea’s panicked cries add to the pounding in (n/n)’s ears as she grabs for the thing’s arms.

Once she’s secured the thing in a bear hug, she calls to Andrea.

“Andrea! Andrea, I have the walker subdued for now, but I don’t have a weapon, and to be quite honest with ya, I don’t know for how long I can keep this thing in my grasp.” (y/n) cried as the monster struggled in her arms, trying to turn around and bite her as best it can. “You gotta kill it, quick!”

The walker bucked, forcing (n/n) to fall back against the counter, almost losing her grip on the thing.

“Now, Andrea!”

The walker bucked again, knocking over Dale’s tool bag, and a hammer fell to the floor. Emerging from the bathroom, Andrea fumbled for it, and charged, striking the sharper end of the tool into the skull. The walker fell from (n/n)’s grasp with the force of the blow, but not before blood splattered across her cheek. The strike must not have been deep enough, because the walker was still moving, grabbing at (n/n)’s leg.

The women screamed and (n/n) brought up her foot to drive the hammer farther into the thing’s skull.

Andrea followed her lead, and the two women took turns stomping on the hammer as they screamed for their lives until finally, the walker stopped moving. They were now both in tears, clinging to each other in the aftermath, breathing heavy, with a healthy splattering of walker brains on their clothing. Looking over each other for bites, and finding none, (n/n) finally managed to say, “Come on, I think I have some spare clothes in my pack.” The other woman nodded wordlessly as they began to clean themselves of the blood and the shock.

~

The two women dragged the thing out of the RV, as the others began to regroup around them. Dale rushed over the second he was able “You girls okay?” he said, checking them both over

“We’re fine,” Andrea replied coldly, seemed she wasn’t quite over the incident at the CDC. (y/n) could understand her frustration about her choice being taken from her the way few others could.

Where was Rick? (y/n) looked about but didn’t see him. The thought was almost immediately abandoned when she heard Carol crying in Lori’s arms.

“Sophia?” (y/n) guessed, though she desperately hoped she was wrong.

“Walkers were chasin’ her. She ran out into the woods, Rick went after her.” Shane supplied.

Shortly after, Rick returned without the girl, and Carol began to yell at him. Poor thing. Shane and Daryl agreed to go back out and track her and again came back without her.

The group sat around, trying to come up with a plan, as well as gather supplies for the prepared detour they’d decided on once they got back on the road.

“We’re not going anywhere without Sophia!” Carol cried.

“That goes without saying,” Lori soothed before she continued with her task.

Dale came out of the RV a little later, holding his tool bag, “Has anyone seen my hammer…? Oh, right.” He said, glancing at the walker corpse a little down the road, the tool still embedded in its face.

Andrea, (n/n) , Dale and Daryl now stood in a circle around the thing, looking down at it.

“You couldn’t have used something different?” He questioned with a slight whine

“Andrea’s gun was in pieces, and I don’t have a weapon. What did you want us to do? Wrestle with it?” (y/n) deadpanned.

“To be fair, that is kinda what you did, (n/n).” Andrea pointed out.

“Alright, alright. Who’s yankin’ it out?” Daryl asked, returning the small group to the topic at hand

“… (n/n) wasn’t shy about grabbing it the first time.” Andrea volunteered her, (y/n) shoved her lightly.

No malice in the gesture, but it wasn’t playful either. “Yeah, and it damn near chewed my leg off--You’re welcome, by the way- -Fuck no. I ain’t touchin’ it again.”

Before a circular argument could ensue, Daryl planted his foot on the walker’s forehead and yanked out the tool. Handing the bloodied item to Dale, he wiped his hand off on his shirt before silently walking away, heading out towards the group of cars they hadn’t yet moved from their path, leaving the others to stare off after him.

“What’s got him so pouty?” Andrea grumbled.

~

(n/n) continued to help the others take inventory of what they’d found. Rick was still trying to figure out where else to look for Sophia, but despite Daryl’s assertions that she’d be fine, (n/n) was finding that she didn’t have much hope for the little girl. The thought made her choke up a bit, but she pushed it aside when Rick and the others began to prepare to head out on another search.

The group began to trickle off, While Dale and T-Dog stayed behind. Rick paused, stopping (n/n) from following.

“I need you to stay here and take a look at T-Dog.” He ordered.

“What? Why?” she asked, T-Dog seemed to be the type of person to not need a babysitter.

“He got cut up while the herd passed by, he needs someone to tend to him.” Rick supplied.

She sighed. She’d gotten this a lot from her family and college friends back while she was in school. Some people just didn’t understand her field of study.

“Rick, I have a _doctorate_ , but I’m no doctor. I don’t patch people up.” She hissed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Yeah, I know, but you’re the closest thing we got. ‘sides, he had a walker placed on him while he had an opened wound, we don’t know what that might end up doin’ to him. You’re the only one who knows what to look for when it comes to early signs of infection, and you’re the only one with even a hint of a clue of how to maybe treat it,” Rick explained, “T-Dog! Show (n/n) your arm!”

Looking behind her, she could already tell that the man didn’t look too well, he peeled back the fabric covering his wound and (n/n) gasped

“Holy shit! You said he got cut up, you never said his whole-ass arm got ripped apart,” She said, already making her way back over to the man.

“So, you’ll stay?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Don’t know what help I’ll be, but I’ll see what I can do.” she agreed hastily, moving towards the truck of water to yank a jug down for cleaning the wound.

Before she could ask why he hadn’t mentioned T-Dog’s condition before, Rick was gone, following the others in search of Sophia.

~

The group had been gone for quite some time, leading (y/n) to guess that they still hadn’t found Sophia.

(n/n) had cleaned the wound as best she could and applied a new pseudo bandage. It was clear that T-Dog had a fever, but it wasn’t as severe as it would be had he been subjected to fluids from the walker. Infection, but not infected.

“So, will I live, Doc?” T-Dog asked weakly.

(n/n) sighed, placing the wet, bloodied rag she’d used to clean him off to the side. “Honestly? Not sure. Y’aren’t _infected_ , but without antibiotics, you’re gonna get an _infection_.” (n/n) lied, well. Not about Antibiotics. She was fully aware that he was already infected. They all were. She’d been meaning to speak to Rick about it, but the timing never seemed right. Now certainly wasn’t the time to bring it up. “I don’t know. Maybe you’ll pull through.”

“Thanks so much for the comforting words, Doc.” T-Dog griped.

(y/n) did her best to distract him by asking "Alright, so... why did Daryl put a dead walker on ya?"

T-Dog shrugged,  "Masks the scent. if you smell like 'em, they won't know you're alive. works better with guts, but 'parently just covering yourself with 'em works." he then turned to Dale, who was standing on the roof of the RV, “Ain’t you supposed to be fixin’ that radiator? What if they come back with Sophia and Rick wants to move on right away?”

“I had the hose fixed yesterday.” Dale smirked

“What was all that rubbin’ and sandin’ for then, that just bullshit?”

“That’s one word for it. Another would be pantomime. The others don’t need to know that. If they knew the van was fixed, they’d want to move on. Stop looking for Sophia.”

(n/n) shook her head. Dale got it. It also temporarily waved away the guilt she harbored about not telling the group about the disease. It’d just cause a panic.

“That is one tricky hose, huh?” T-Dog stated.

Yes, yes it was.

~

A while had gone by, and the others still weren’t back. (n/n) sat in the RV quietly, reading a book she’d borrowed from Dale. It wasn’t very good, but it was something to do. a knock came, and she looked up from her spot on the mattress to see Dale in the doorway.

“T-Dog’s infection is getting worse. We’re going to look around some more, see if we can find any antibiotics.”

(y/n) nodded gravely, getting up from the bed to follow him out and help with the search.

Wandering down the highway a bit, she decided to search through a couple of cars farther up the road.

“Don’t stray too far, (n/n),” Dale called, but she waved him off. If they wanted any hope of finding something new, they had to branch out a bit further.

Searching through her designated area, she managed to find half a pack of water bottles, a few boxes of animal crackers, and a bottle of baby aspirin. She wasn’t sure how much of a dose a full-grown man would need to take for it to have any sort of effect, but it was better than nothing. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a dark item of clothing catch the light of the sun through the open trunk of a minivan. walking over and picking it up, she realized it was a leather jacket. A nice one. After looking behind, to make sure T-Dog and Dale weren’t close to her--she really didn’t want to have to explain herself for this-- she took the sleeve between her hands, and bit into it. Hard. Tugging at the fabric a bit in her mouth, she finally released it to assess the damage, licking her teeth at the unique taste in her mouth. Nothing. The sleeve seemed as sturdy and untouched as it had before she’d bit into it like a ham steak.

Satisfied, she slipped it over her shoulders, untucking her hair from where it was trapped between her and the back of the jacket. It was a bit tight, but if she continued with this eat-when-you-can diet, she was sure she’d eventually slim down to fit.

It was a bit hot for mid-summer in Georgia, but it should provide some protection should a walker try to bite her arms or shoulders.

Speaking of, a groan emitted from the backseat of the minivan she was currently standing in front of, and a walker began to move as it spotted her, crawling from the backseat attempting to grab her as it made its way through the trunk. In a panic, (n/n) looked around for something-anything, but as time grew short, she settled for simply slamming the trunk of the car and backing away to stare at the monster banging at the window of the minivan. Trying to get her. With a shaky breath, she gathered what little she found, and made her way back to the men that seemed to have already finished their search.

“I found some more batteries. And some very trendy pink water, an excellent new machete, and I thought Glen might like this guitar. Maybe he plays,” he paused to look at T-Dog. “No drugs.”

“I found some water, some animal crackers, this,” (y/n) said, gripping the sides of her jacket and giving a twirl, being rewarded with a ‘very nice’ from Dale before she mentioned the baby aspirin, “don’t know how much help it’ll be, but it’s somethin’.”

T-Dog shook his head. “You say that a lot.”

“Pardon?”

“You offer your help while sayin’ you don’t know if it’ll be useful. From what I’ve seen, you’re one of the most useful people here. You got Jenner to let us out-Rick ensured he really did it, but we all know it was you he listened to; you tackled a walker for Andrea, and you patched me up pretty good despite your claims that you didn’t know how. You need to give yourself more credit, or this group ain’t gonna notice your value, and you’ll be left behind like me and Dale, here.”

“What?” Dale said, incredulous.

“Look at us, people off in the woods, lookin’ for that poor girl, and what are we doin’? We’re here. Why? ‘cuz they think we’re the weakest. How old are you, 70?”

“64.” Dale corrected.

“mm. (n/n)’s been locked in a bunker since the beginning, she barely knows what she’s doin’ and she’s made it clear she don’t got a weapon, and me? I’m the one black guy. You know how precarious that makes my situation?”

“What the hell are ya talkin’ about?” (n/n) balked, sitting down next to the man as he took a drag from his cigarette.

“I’m talkin’ about two good ol’ cowboy sheriffs, and a redneck whose brother cut off his own hand ‘cuz I dropped a key.”

(n/n) stiffened at that. She wasn’t aware that Daryl had a brother, let alone that he’d lost him, though she supposed when she thought about it, she didn’t know him very well at all. She didn’t know much about any of these people, and yet she felt so close with them. Although, studies did show that stressful and deadly situations tended to result in humans forming strong pack bonds quickly in order to survive, so perhaps that was why she already felt like she’d do anything for these people.

Shaking her head, she began to focus back on the ensuing conversation.

“You can’t be serious. Am I missing something?” Dale cawed, “Those ‘Cowboys’ have done alright by us, and if I’m not mistaken, that ‘Redneck' went out of his way to save your ass. More than once.”

“Don’t forget about Andrea, kills her own sister, and doesn’t even thank (n/n) for savin’ ‘er hide.”

“She was in shock-- and Amy was already dead.” Dale. Defensive of Andrea. Again.

“—And wants to blow herself up. Yeah, she’s all there.”

“She’s having a tough time!”

T-Dog began to yell, becoming more and more exasperated that Dale wasn’t grasping his point.

“The whole world’s havin’ a tough time, man! Look at us! Look where we are!”

(n/n) shushed him, attempting to place a calming hand on his shoulder, but was shaken off as he continued, quieter.

“Let’s just… let’s just go. We’ll take the RV.”

“I’m not leavin’! What’s the matter with you? Those people need us, and this van, _and_ on top of that, Daryl’s got my gun!” (y/n) chided, tacking on an added thought.

“What? He’s why you’re out here without a weapon? Man, what the fuck? See, this is what I mean, they don’t trust us. We’re a liability to them. Let’s... let’s go. You, me, and Dale. Let’s go, before they get back.” He said, huffing, sweaty, and tired.

Dale reached for him, feeling his forehead. “Oh my god, you’re burning up! Here, take some of (n/n)’s baby aspirin. We’ve got to knock that fever down.”

(n/n) handed over the bottle of drugs, before scanning the tree line, unable to spot even a hint of their group.

“Where the hell are they?” She heard Dale mutter.

~

Almost twenty minutes later, they got their answer. Half the group came storming out of the woods, looking around for them in a panic.

“Everything alright? Where’re the Grimes? ‘n Shane?” (y/n) asked, taking stock of the arriving people.

“Carl was shot” Glen supplied breathlessly.

“Shot? What do you mean he’s been shot?” Dale asked, meeting the others as they climbed back onto the road.

“I don’t know man, all I know is this chick rode in like Zorro on a horse and took Lori.”

“And you let her?” Dale again.

Daryl brushed past him ,“Climb out of my asshole. She knew Lori’s name. Rick sent ‘er.”

A group discussion began to ensue, deciding whether to stay or leave. Carol refused, stating she wasn’t abandoning Sophia, prompting Daryl to suggest they leave in the morning, and make a sign for Sophia in case she comes back.

“I’ll stay, take the RV tomorrow.” He offered.

“If the RV’s staying, so am I.” Dale.

“Alright, I’m in.” Andrea conceded next.

Glen offered to stay too, but (y/n) shook her head.

“No, you ‘n me are goin’. We’ll take the Cherokee…” she paused a second, glancing at the weapon in Andrea’s hand. “…does Andrea have my gun?”

She turned to stare at Daryl, dumbfounded.

“To be fair, Lori had it first… I like the jacket, it new?” He offered, looking a bit sheepish.

She laughed dryly, “Oh, yeah. ‘cuz that’s better. When I let you hold on to it, I didn’t realize you were goin’ to be loanin’ it out.” she was about ready to bite his head off.

“Here, when he gave it to Lori, he claimed it was ‘cuz it was a spare. If it’s yours, take it back. I know how it feels to have your gun taken.” Andrea said curtly, eyeing Dale.

With a sigh, (n/n) retrieved the gun from Andrea, placing it in an insular pocket of her new jacket.

“T-Dog’s right, y’all really don’t trust us. C’mon Glen.” She demanded, bumping Daryl’s shoulder roughly as she passed him to help T-Dog into the car.

“No, I want to help, I can stay-” Glen tried to protest

“-Glen, if ya wanna help, you can drive the damn car. T-Dog’s got an infection somethin’ fierce and he needs to see this doctor that’s takin’ care o’ Carl, or he won’t last the night. You know how to get us there.”

“Why didn’t you say somethin’ earlier?” Daryl huffed, brushing off (y/n)’s anger with a bit of difficulty, “get yer rags off my bike,” he demanded. Throwing the RV’s grease rags at Dale, “I got my brother’s stash. Crystal, X, don’t need that… Some kick-ass painkillers. Oxycycline, not the generic stuff, neither. First class. Merle got The Clap on occasion.”

When (y/n) finished easing T-Dog into the car, she paced back to the group to grab the antibiotics from Dale.

“Fantastic. One man’s Gonorrhea is another man’s treasure, I guess,” she muttered. She was rewarded with a snort of a laugh from Daryl, prompting her to add, “nu-uh. You are not allowed to laugh at that. I am still so mad at you.”

She dragged Glen to the car, insisting he get in and start the drive to this doctor’s farm. As she was gearing up to get in the back, she was stopped

“Hey, Princess, can I talk with you a sec?” Daryl asked.

Assuming he was trying to apologize, (n/n) sighed.

“Listen, Daryl, I’m tired, and we need to go. Can it wait?”

she was going to forgive him. At some point. He probably only offered out her gun because the others needed it, but right now, she just wanted some space to think.

“Uh, I mean…”

“Great. Raincheck. I’ll see you tomorrow at some point.”

Hopping in the car, she ordered Glen to start driving, and they were off.


	5. Bloodletting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader, alongside Glen and T-Dog arrive to the farm just in time, it would seem, and once again everything seems to be going well for the group, but something still doesn't sit right with the reader.

Arriving at the Greene’s farm felt so unreal. After all the destruction (y/n) had witnessed in the past few weeks, seeing something so clean and untouched felt… out of place.

They burst through the door, Glen supporting T-Dog and calling for help, informing the family of their second patient of the evening. (y/n) immediately went to seek out Lori, and the two women embraced. “How is he? How’s your boy?”

“We… we don’t know. We need something. A-a-a, respirator? Shane went to get it with the man who shot him, Otis. We don’t have much time left, Carl’s losin’ blood faster than Rick can replace it. He’s getting so loopy, (n/n).” She whimpered, burying her face into the other woman’s shoulder.

Freeing herself from Lori, (y/n) made her way into what appeared to be a guest bedroom. Rick sat, sweaty and pale, eating a PB&J next to an equally pale Carl. An elderly man sitting beside the boy lifted his head at her entrance. “You one of Rick’s people?”

(n/n) nodded, sticking out her hand “Dr. (y/n) (l/n), though I feel like the thing that makes me a Dr. ain’t worth much anymore.”

The man shook her hand. “Dr. Hershel Greene. Yeah, I get that feeling, too.”

She smiled. Someone who got it. Finally. “How’s our boy, Doc?”

“Not good, I’m afraid. He needs more blood. Now, preferably, but I can’t risk taking any more from Rick at this time.” The older man reported.

With a sense of cold calm that had become familiar to (n/n) over the months she worked trying to cure the virus, she began to fall into work mode. “What type o’ blood you need?”

At his answer, she removed her jacket and rolled up the sleeve of her shirt.

“What a coincidence, that’s me.” She said, holding out her arm to the doctor.

Rick stood up from the chair. “(n/n), I can’t ask you to do this-”

She cut him off, smiling kindly. “Rick, my job is to help people. Just ‘cuz my workplace was blown t’ bits don’t mean that’s stopped bein’ true. Let me do this for you.”

“You’re positive?” Rick asked, still trying to stand on wobbly feet.

“I ain’t just positive Rick, I’m A+.”

Not the most appropriate time to unleash her unfunniest joke, but Rick didn’t seem to mind.

~

“Thank you so much for this, (n/n),” Lori said, grasping her hand as Hershel’s assistant of sorts pricked her with the IV needle

“Don’t gotta thank me, If I were in your shoes, Rick’d do this for me. I know he would. He’s a good man.”

Lori nodded wordlessly, as (y/n) turned to the woman taking her blood.

“Take as much as you need.” She demanded, gravely.

Lori had sat with (n/n) in order to keep her distracted while the blood was being drawn, but it felt more like (n/n) was distracting _her_ , as they continued to talk.

“Where the hell is Shane? He should have been back by now.” She asked, still gripping (y/n)’s hand with white knuckles.

“He’ll be here. He’s dependable like that.” She assured. “We got a dependable group of guys lookin’ out for us. Rick, Shane, Daryl…” she said drifting off

“God, Daryl. I was so cold to him ‘fore I left for the night. I shouldn’t have snubbed him like that. He didn’t do anythin’ wrong.” (y/n) admitted. “I just. He’d held on to my gun because he didn’t want me usin’ a deadly weapon I didn’t know how to be safe with, which is reasonable, and he had it on hand, so he lent it to you and Andrea for protection, which is also reasonable, and very considerate of ‘im. But when I saw Andrea, a woman who-- let's be honest--shouldn’t have a gun anywhere near her right now, and it was _my_ gun in her hand… I just got so mad. Didn’t help that T-Dog had been spewin’ a delirious train of thought at me earlier that was actually makin’ a little too much sense, and I guess I just got too caught up in my own insecurities.”

Lori listened intently, trying to find something to say, but in the last part of (y/n)’s explanation, her brow furrowed. “What was T-Dog saying?”

Oops, probably not a good idea to tell her he wanted to leave the group behind. Especially now that Carl was lying, unconscious and close to death in the other room.

“a-ahh... Just that… I tend to self-deprecate, and if I don’t start takin’ more credit for my actions, you’ll leave me behind.” She said, running a finger on her free hand along the wood grain in the table. It wasn’t false, he _had_ said that, but that wasn’t really the answer to Lori’s question, now was it?

(n/n) wasn’t a liar per se, but she was definitely prone to half-truths. Something told her that was going to land her in trouble at some point with this group.

“Well, he’s right about speaking up for yourself, but, you gotta know, (n/n). You’re family. Especially now, with you doin’ this for us,” she motioned towards the bag half-full of blood, “we wouldn’t leave you behind. That’s a promise.”

(y/n) smiled brightly “Thanks, Lori. That means a lot.”

~

5 pints of blood, and one PB&J later, Carl’s condition was stable, and the procedure finally performed. (y/n) and Rick found themselves, sweaty, pale, and completely loopy on the Greene’s family couch, both too lightheaded from the blood loss to do much else but trade stories and eat what they’re told to.

“S-so then Shane, you know, he takes the car, an’ parks it in one of these chicken pens that’s just full of Rhode Island Reds-”

“-Ooh, fuck, those nasty li’l bastards. Had a couple growin’ up, they were mean, n’ loud, an’ they shit _everywhere_. Ok, I get the picture, go on.”

Lori watches from another chair, it’s obvious she’s heard the story maybe a thousand times, but it was also obvious that she was pleased her husband had found someone to tell the story to, if the smirk she tried to hide every time (n/n) interrupted said anything.

“…Yeah, yep. You get it, so he parks the car in there, an’ he just fills the backseat up with birdseed, an’ opens all the car windows. Then he- He just starts sprintin’ back to school. Three miles, easy. Sonofabitch’s back in time to finish his meal.”

“Hahaha! What a legend!”

“Yeah, an’ I ain’t even at the best part. So, when the bell rings for class, he runs into the principal in the hallway, an’ he just says, ‘Principal Kingsly, your Coop’s gone.’”

The two divulge into giggles.

“Okay, alright, I got one. S-so, this was back when I was just an intern, right before the shit hit the fan. I was young, bright-eyed an’ bushy tailed, an’ I get it in my head that I’m gonna make breakfast for the whole damn team. That’s uh, I believe thirty people, at the time. Keep in mind, I’ve never cooked anythin’ in my life, and I’m too short to reach the middle shelves in the kitchen without the children’s step stool, but hey, it’s box pancakes, how hard can it be, right?”

As (y/n) begins to tell the story, Lori gets up and leaves the room for something, and as soon as she’s out of earshot, (y/n) trails off.

“(n/n)? What’s the matter?” Rick asked, noticing the look on her face.

With a breath, she figured it was now or never, “Rick, I gotta tell you somethin’, but I’m not really sure if we should tell the others. It’s about the virus; Rick we’re all-”

“-Infected. Yeah, I know. Jenner told me ‘fore we left.”  He sighed, leaning his head on the back of the couch, he suddenly seemed so fatigued. (y/n) was starting to feel it, too.

“What do we do, should we tell the others? I don’t know what good it’d do, they’d all just freak out, I think.”

“No, you’re right. Let’s keep it to ourselves for now. Thanks for runnin’ that by me, (n/n).”

“Yeah, well, if you haven’t noticed, yer kinda the boss ‘round here. Not really good to have the head-bitch-in-charge lost in the dark, is it?” (y/n) joked, elbowing him in the side.

“Am I? The boss, I mean.” He asked, sounding unsure.

“Yeah. Seems like everybody knows it but you, Bud.”

Rick seemed to ponder that fact, and his expression darkened. Maybe she was putting too much pressure on him too fast, (y/n) fretted. In an instant, she was chuckling again.

“Okay, so anyway, I’m in the kitchen, right? Cooking’ up the pancakes, and the recipe calls for two eggs for about 14 pancakes, but all we got’s the powdered stuff, an’ I’m not really sure what the ratio is for liquid egg to powdered, so I just put in a cup of ‘em, ‘cuz I was feedin’ like thirty people, obviously I was making more than 14 pancakes. So I have to do all the multiplication for if x is 14, solve for y when x is divided by four, then times thirty just to get the measurements for the other ingredients, and it’s like—What?—six in the mornin', an’ I’ve never been good at algebra even when I was fully awake, so of course, I get the formula wrong. An’ don’t even get me _started_ on my egg guestimation…”

His eyes are still closed, but he’s got a wide smile on his face, and (n/n) feels like she’s accomplished something.

~

Rick has gone off somewhere to get some sleep with Lori by the time the sun is up, and (y/n)’s fallen asleep on the couch. Someone’s taken pity on her and draped a blanket around her curled form, and she’s all but dead to the world when the rest of the group show up.

Hershel and the others were awake, and they greet the straggling group members, informing them of the current situation.

“Hey, where’s (n/n)?” Daryl blurted out after not seeing her in the surrounding group

Hershel bristled at the rude questioning but pointed inside to the couch where the virologist was currently snoozing, and walking up the steps to invite the group in. Daryl nodded his thanks before he made his way inside.

Shaking her, he began to call out, “(n/n). Hey, Princess, wake up.”

She groaned, attempting to turn over on her side, but when she realized that the thing disturbing her was someone trying to rouse her, she cracked an eye open.

“well, good mornin’, Handsome.” She muttered, with a small grin.

He gave a pause, “What ‘chu call me?”

She crinkled her brow, as if even she was trying to decipher her meaning “Ah, ignore me, I have even less of a filter than normal first thing in the mornin’ if you can believe that. What’s goin’ on?”

After a pause, trying to wrap his mind around every single word she’d said to him thus far, he said: “Mind if I cash in that raincheck now?”

“Mind if I grab a cup a coffee first? I smell it brewin’ and it has been too long since I’ve had good coffee.” She salivated at the scent wafting in from the kitchen.

He nodded and she started to get up from the couch. Standing too fast, her legs buckled, and she felt the ground rushing to meet her. Daryl caught her easily, lifting her back up, holding her form against his chest to support her.

“Hey, Hey! Princess, you alright? You hurt or somethin’? what’s goin’ on?” he asked, cupping her cheek as her head lolled to the side.

“Your woman’s fine, just a bit light headed. She gave a lot of blood last night.” Hershel said, patiently holding out a mug to the reeling woman. She took it gratefully, in both hands so as not to accidentally drop it.

“She ain’t my woman,” Daryl growled, a light pink dusting over his cheeks as he said it.

Oof. That hurt. (n/n) brought the coffee up to her lips, giving her time to school her features before she tried to look over at the man who was currently holding her so securely. If she just leaned in a little to her left, she could place her cheek over his heart and…

(n/n) took another sip from her mug. Why was she thinking about that now? He’d literally just shot down the idea of being with her, openly.

Eyeing the range of expressions (n/n) expertly hid from her partner, Hershel just shrugged. “If you say so…”

“I do.” his graveled tone holding finality, “c’mon, (n/n). Let’s go talk on the porch.”

He’d removed his arms from their wrapped position around her body, but he kept one hand on the small of her back, ready to catch her if she fell again. He let go of her when they reached the front door so he could push the screen open and usher her out.

~

He was leaning against the banister, looking down at the planks of the platform, while (y/n) sat with her legs tucked under her body on a porch swing. Neither of them had said anything yet.

They spoke suddenly, at the same time.

“If this is about last night—”

“—sorry ‘bout bein’ called my…”

They both paused to look at each other.

“You go first, Daryl.”

With a shake of his head, he went “Naw, you.”

She breathed in deeply, taking in the crisp morning air before starting, “if this is about last night, I’m sorry for blowin’ up at you like that. It wasn’t fair of me, it’d just been a long day- err, a couple of, no. How long’s it been? Six months?”

“Feels like eight, but it’s probably closer to four.” He supplied.

“Then it’s been a long eight months.” She said with a grin.

He chuckled. “yeah, I hear that. An’ for the record… I do trust you.”

She blinked. “What?”

He glanced away, tone softer than it had been before, “’fore you left? You said that we didn’t trust ya, an’ yer wrong. We do. We just worry ‘bout ya, ya haven’t been out here very long, an’ I was just tryin’ to look out for ya, but I shouldn’t have taken yer gun, and I certainly shouldn’t have let it get into Andrea’s hands, so sorry.”

“s’alright. Now, what were you sayin’ before?”

A prevalent flush lined his cheeks for the first time since that night in the CDC almost three weeks ago.

"Naw. It don't matter that much, just somethin' stupid.” He was looking anywhere but at her," 'sides, it wasn’t 'bout why I called you out here. I’ve just been meanin’ to give ya somethin’.”

He unclipped a sheathed knife from a belt loop and held it out to her.

“You kept complainin’ that you didn’t have a weapon, and when we all started talkin’ bout that walker that came after you and Andrea, I realized just ‘cuz yer with the group don’t mean yer safe to be runnin’ about defenseless. I went lookin’ for a good knife for you right after that. ‘s a good size for you, an’ it’s a lot quieter than that gun a yers… was gonna give it to you at some point while we were lookin’ for S’phia, but ya ended up staying behind, then ya left in such a hurry later that night… just, thought I’d give it to ya as soon as I could.” He rubbed at the back of his neck when she reached for the knife, their fingers brushing much like they had that fateful final morning at the CDC when he’d taken the bottle of Advil from her.

“Thanks, Daryl, this is… real thoughtful of you. It’s sweet.”

“It ain’t nothin’” he grumbled

But she refused to agree as she pulled the Rambo hunting knife from its sheath to inspect the blade, “No, this is somethin’. It’s a lovely gift, thank you.”

She shifted slightly to untuck her legs from underneath her and the whole world began to tilt. “Hey, D-Daryl, I hate to ask, but I think if I try to get up from this swing on my own, I’m gonna fall right on my face.”

He chuckled deeply “Yeah, alright. Hang on.”

~

A funeral for the man named Otis happened later that day.

(y/n) had never met him, but what she knew of him, he seemed an honest, well-meaning man. Shane gave a long speech, detailing the events of Otis’s death, and if true, Otis was a real hero, but something felt off to (y/n). Something in the way Shane spoke. That wasn’t how he normally would. Felt too perfect. Too theatric, and (y/n) felt herself pick up on those bad vibes she sometimes got from Shane. She felt herself shiver.

“You cold?” she heard from a little behind her. Daryl.

She shook her head minutely, and spoke back quietly, so as not to disturb their mourning hosts, “No, just unnerved. This doesn’t feel right.”

The group dispersed, leaving those grieving to themselves as the others prepared to set up camp and begin the search for the child still missing out in the woods

“How ya figure?” Daryl pressed, though he sounded like he already agreed with her.

“It’s a bit… too perfect don’t you think?” She said.

“Yeah. You notice he came back with Otis’s gun?”

(y/n) shivered once again.


	6. Cherokee Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seems like everybody's hiding secrets.

A few people stood around the hood of a car looking at the map of the surrounding woods.

“This is perfect we can finally get organized. We’ll grid the whole area, start searchin’ in teams.” Rick thought out loud.

“Not you, not today, you gave three units of blood yesterday, you wouldn’t be walking five minutes in this heat without passin’ out.  An’ you, you push that ankle and you’ll be laid up a month, no help to anyone.” Hershel chided to two of the three other men around the hood.

“I guess that just leaves me. I’m gonna head back to the creek, work my way from there,” Daryl announced, outlining a path on the map

“No, no. not alone you aren’t, It ain’t safe. Take someone with you.” (y/n) pleaded.

“Who’s he going to take, Sweetheart? You?” Shane chuckled, he laughed even harder when she gave a shrug confirming that she thought it was an option.

“Not on my watch, Missy,” Hershel turned on her, “Did you not just hear what I said to Rick?”

“He gave three units. I only gave two. The human body’s got nine to twelve, ’s fine.” She defended.

“Sure, but you’re smaller than Rick.  When was the last time you ate even one balanced meal, young lady?”

She sighed and shook her head, defeated.

“Hey, you can still be useful, Sweetheart. We can drive up the interstate, check to see if she made it back.” Shane again.

Both she and Daryl were shooting him daggers. She’d never been fond of men giving pet names to women they weren’t involved with, and he was getting a little too comfy calling her ‘Sweetheart’. On the other hand, when Daryl would call her Princess…

Well, she’s just gotten used to that.

“Alright, tomorrow then. We’ll start doing this right.” Rick, as always, oblivious to the problems Shane seemed to cause.

“It means we can’t just leave our people out here with just knives, We need the gun trainin’ we’ve been promisin’.”

Everyone around the hood started to look at Hershel at the statement, but the man refused to allow them to keep their guns on the property.

Rick agreed, removing his gun from the holster, and (n/n) removed hers from her jacket pocket. After a beat, Shane slammed his down on the hood alongside the others.

“I do _request_ one rifleman to take watch on the RV. Dale’s got experience.” Shane spoke afterward

Hershel’s face twisted, but Rick finally got him to bend, stating that his people would be less inclined to carry guns if they were allowed this.

Soon after one of Hershel’s daughters, Maggie, announced she’d be making a run into town, and Glen had been volunteered to go with her, and with that, the group had broken off to start work on setting up camp.

~

Rick and (y/n) sat on the steps together, still debating when and how they should tell the others about the virus.

“I agree, we gotta find the right moment to tell them, but the way I see it, there ain’t gonna be a ‘right moment’ they deserve to know, (n/n),” Rick whispered looking around.

“Exactly. There ain’t a right moment. Look, if we tell ‘em, it’s gonna start a panic. They’ll be jumpin’ at shadows and wonderin’ whether fightin’ like this is even worth it. You saw what it did to-”

She took a shaky breath.

“You saw what the news did to Dr. Jenner. He-he couldn’t. If the others knew there wasn’t any real point…”

The conversation stopped as Daryl walked by the house, crossbow slung over his arm.

“Hey, you okay on your own?” Rick called

“Better on my own. Don’ worry, I’ll be back before dark.” He called back, bite to his voice.

“Hey! We got a base now. We can get this search properly organized now.”

Daryl looked between Rick, and (n/n) who was still seated on the porch steps watching him.

“You gotta point? Or are we just chattin’?” he spat.

They continued to conversate for a little before Daryl got annoyed and began to talk off towards the woods.

“Hey, Wait!” (y/n) called standing up as well

“What?” he barked, even more frustrated than before.

“Be careful. Stay safe.” She pleaded weakly, feeling a little foolish saying it once he scoffed.

“Don’t waste yer time worryin’ ‘bout me, Princess.”

~

(y/n) spent most of her day helping Carol clean up the RV. She’d been tidying up the girl’s belongings, she found something that made her pause. Amidst the clothes and the few bits of school supplies was (y/n)’s book. Pride and Prejudice.

“Is something wrong?” Carol asked as she noticed the other woman pause.

“No, It’s just… My book. You smuggled it out.” (y/n) said, a hint of a smile.

Carol smiled sadly. “You can have it back if you’d like.

The older woman continued to tidy a bit more before she sighed, sat down on the mattress, and began to sew.

(y/n) took a hesitant seat on the other side of the bed “Well what ‘re you an’ Sophia gonna read together once she gets back?”

Carol smiled a bit in appreciation at the woman’s use of ‘when’ and not ‘if’.

“The old English was a bit too hard for her to get past. I’ve been reading it on my own for a little while now, but I stopped around the time Sophia…” the woman didn’t continue. “You should take it back, it’s yours.”

(y/n) sat quietly, running her finger along the spine. “At the moment, I’m readin’ a book that Dale lent me. ’s not very good, but It helps take my mind off things I don’t wanna think about too much.”

Carol looked over at her, waiting for her to continue, and so she did.

“Namely Edwin. What happened to him. I still can’t believe he’s…well, I don’t think about it, and I get along fine, and whenever I do find myself thinkin’ of him, or anyone else that’s missin’, like my daddy, or my mom, or the family dog, or any of my college buddies…” she said quietly choking back tears, “I find that reading helps me not think about it so much.”

Carol ran a soothing hand over (y/n)’s leg, and she gave a watery laugh. “Look at me, I meant to comfort you, and all I did was start to blubber.”

Carol smiled kindly and went back to sewing. “…Do you think maybe you could read it now? Out loud?”

(y/n) nodded, wiping the tears from her eyes before opening the book to the bookmarked page. She smiled fondly, familiar with the scene.

“ _Elizabeth could not help observing, as she turned over some music books that lay on the instrument, how frequently Mr. Darcy’s eyes were fixed on her. She hardly knew how to suppose that she could be an object of admiration to so great a man; and yet that he should look at her because he disliked her was still more strange_ …”

They continued like that for a while, when the sudden appearance of a person in the RV with them made her stop and look up. Daryl stood, looking awkward and out of place. He’d been gruff and a little angry when he’d left, but now he seemed to be calmer.

“Thought I was in the wrong place for a second.” He said, looking about the tidied space. He placed a flower in an empty beer bottle on the table in front of the women.

“A flower?” Carol questioned.

“That’s a Cherokee Rose, isn’t it?” (y/n) asked, confused.

He nodded, recounting the legend of the flower and its significance towards grieving mothers.

“I ain’t fool enough ta think there’s flowers bloomin’ for Merle, but this one, I think it bloomed for your little girl.”

Carol teared up, smiling kindly

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He nodded, backing out of the room pausing in the archway of the RV to look back at the two women.

“She’s gonna love it in here.”

And he was gone.

~

(y/n) found him later, making arrows in the shade of the camp. She sat down next to him, looking him up and down as he worked.

“Whatcha want, Princess?” He asked, gruffly.

She’d been in the trailer, she’d seem him speak softly with Carol, she knew that he wanted her to pretend she hadn’t.

“That was really sweet of you, ya know.” She smiled slightly

“Don’t know whatcha mean.” He replied dumbly, whittling an arrow point.

She scoffed lightly, but she let it go, choosing to lean back in the lawn chair she was perched in.

Glen soon made his way over to them, plopping down in the chair next to her.

She nodded towards him in greeting before closing her eyes and focusing on the cool shade on her skin. She could hear Glen fidgeting in the chair next to her and could tell he was gearing to ask her something, so she cocked her head to the side, and cracked an eye open to let him know she was listening.

“(n/n), you’re a girl, right?” He started.

“Oh-ho-ho! Whatever you’re about to ask me, Sweetie, that’s a bad fuckin’ start.” She said with a grin.

He shook his head, apologizing and starting over

“It’s just, say you’re a girl, and _you_ and I had an… encounter, and-” he started again

“Woa! Stop. Stop again. This hypothetical is gonna get weird, I can tell. Just say it outright.”

From behind her she could hear Daryl snickering slightly, and she almost turned around to smack him.

“So _this girl_ and I got… you know, physical, and she wants it to be a one-time thing, but I don’t really want to leave it at that.” He said blushing, “What should I do?”

Daryl leaned over to look at Glen “You and Maggie?” he asked, amused.

“She could do better,” (y/n) joked, smiling over at Daryl while poking Glen in the stomach.

“I never said it was Maggie.” He defended, in a panic.

“No, but it sure as fuck ain’t anyone in our group, and you’ve been oglin’ Maggie since we got here. Ya don’t gotta be a genius t’ figure that out.” (y/n) smirked.

“Yeah, what I still don’t get is why _she_ went for _you_.” Daryl hooted, “Ah, maybe she just hit ‘fuck it’.”

The laughter slid from (y/n)’s face, as she looked over at him, quiet anger boiling under her skin. “What was that?”

She could see it dawn on him. What he’d said.

“What did you just say?”

He awkwardly coughed, thinking of what he would say next. “I dunno, somethin’ I heard once. Can’t remember where.”

“Bullshit. You remember, don’t you? You remember, and you never said anythin’? You just pretended you forgot?” she was close to screaming now, and she could tell because she could see Carol peeking out the window from behind Daryl, who was looking down and avoiding her eyes.

“I feel like I’m missing something,” Glen uttered nervously from behind her, but she paid him no mind.

“How long were you gonna wait before you told me? You weren’t gonna, were you?”

He still wasn’t looking at her. He just sat there, huffing and letting her yell at him, and somehow that made her even madder.

Dale turned around from his position on the roof.

“Everything alright down there?” he asked, he phrased it like he was asking the group, but from the way the man was looking down at her, she knew the question was for her specifically.

“Everything’s fine, I’m just a bigger fool than I thought I was, that’s all.” She stated before stalking away in the direction of the house.

Glen still sat, dumbfounded in his lawn chair.

“S-so, about Maggie…”

“Man, Shut up,” Daryl growled, Whittling at his arrows even more aggressively than before.

~

The two studiously avoided each other well into the next day, and this time, when Daryl headed out on his own, (y/n) was helping with the clothesline, and avoiding his gaze. She doesn’t bother telling him to stay safe.

But she did watch him as he took the horse out and rode off into the woods.


	7. Everyone's A Fool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader feels like a fool after the fight she has with Daryl, but she feels even worse when he returns to camp bloodied and unconcious.

Carol seemed to be in a more chipper mood than she had been the past few days.

“Everything alright, (n/n)?” she asked sweetly while she watched (y/n) sit on a stump fiddling with her knife.

“Yeah, I’m just thinkin’.”

“About that fight you had with Daryl the other day?”

(y/n) looked up at her, a sheepish look on her face. “So, you heard that, huh?”

She heard Carol chuckle as she sat down beside her in the grass.

“Oh, Honey I think half the farm heard it. You want to talk about it?”

(y/n) shook her head a bit, but the way Carol sat patiently made it seem like the woman had only asked to be polite. Carol was going to find out what happened whether (y/n) told her or not.

“Back at the CDC, I thought I was goin’ to die, and there was no way ‘round it. So, I thought ‘hey, might as well get in one last romp ‘fore I go,’ an’ Daryl had been around when I thought it.”

Carol stared at her, patiently. No judgment in her eyes, and for that, (y/n) was appreciative.

“So, we kissed, and it was… nice. Very nice. But I could taste the alcohol on his breath, an’ I didn’t really wanna take advantage of ‘im. I thought he was gonna be too drunk to remember, and if he wasn’t; well then, he’d come find me, and we could squeeze it in ‘fore the lights went out.”

Carol filled in the blank, “But when breakfast came the next morning, he said he couldn’t remember.”

(y/n) nodded “ ’Cept that was a lie. He just regretted the kiss, an’ felt bad for not wantin’ me, so he played protector for a while. Called me Princess, gave me this knife… I thought for a bit, you know… maybe he doesn’t 'member the other night, but maybe, he still thought of me like that, but no. No, I’m just an idiot.” She finished pathetically, wiping a tear away.

Carol grasped her knee.

“Well, with a doctorate in Virology, and a job at the CDC, you’ve gotta be the smartest idiot out there.”

(y/n) laughed a bit at that, "Yeah, that's 'cuz all the others 're dead."

Carol stood, wiping off her jeans and offering a hand to help her up.

“Come on, Lori and I are helping cook dinner for the Greenes tonight. You can help if it’ll take your mind off things.”

(y/n) took the hand appreciatively. “Oh, I don’t think you want me in the kitchen with you.”

But despite her warning, she allowed Carol to drag her towards the house.

“Nonsense! I’m sure you’re just fine.”

“No. I’m not. Rick ever tell you the pancake story?”

“No he hasn’t, but you can tell it to me on the way.”

~

(n/n) hung about the kitchen with the other women, talking quietly with them as they assigned her small jobs to do. after sharing her story with Carol, the woman agreed not to let her anywhere near the stove, so instead, she found herself chopping veggies, and listening to the chatter, occasionally adding her input.

The little blonde girl, Beth stood next to her, tossing the salad as (y/n) chopped and added the veggies to the bowl.

“So, how’re you and that guy of yours doing after your fight yesterday?” she asked, a knowing smirk on her face.

(n/n) let her breath blow out her nose, “he’s not really ‘my guy’…”

“Oh no, you guys broke up?”

(n/n) laughed nervously, looking about the kitchen as if checking to confirm that the others could hear the ridiculous assumption, too.

“We were never together. Not really, anyway.”

Beth tilted her head to the side. “You sure? Because it sure seemed like you two were sweet on each other.”

“I’m sure. I might’ve thought it was headin’ there, but… No. He doesn’t see me that way.” (y/n) laughed some more, wildly uncomfortable with the topic at hand.

“Again, you sure? I saw the way he was holdin’ you the other day when you almost hit the floor. And come on, who else here has seen him starin’ at her butt?” the young girl asked.

Shocked at the bluntness of the statement (y/n) looked back up at her, and then around to the women surrounding them. They all had their hands held way up in the air, and (y/n) blushed when they all laughed at her small-voiced, “seriously?”

Before anyone else could tease her, a gunshot went off, and everyone shared a look of panic before running out of the house towards the fields.

She saw Carol and Lori pause in front of her, so she stopped as well.

“What’s the matter, what happened…?”

When she spotted Shane and Rick dragging Daryl towards the house, she didn't remember screaming or running, but she did remember Carol holding her back and shushing her, petting the top of (y/n)’s head.

As soon as they were close, she grabbed T-Dog by the shirt. “What happened? Is he dead? Did they shoot ‘im?”

“He- he came limpin’ outta the woods with Sophie’s doll on his belt. Rick told Andrea not to shoot-- he  told her, but…”

Everything seemed to slow down after that, as T-Dog handed Carol the doll. (y/n) was released, and she immediately stormed off to where Andrea was pacing, hands buried in her hair.

This time, when (y/n) pushed her, the malice was present.

“(n/n), What’s the matter with you?” Dale scolded, trying to help Andrea up from the ground, but (y/n) wouldn’t let him.

“I was ‘bout to ask the same thing to Calamity Jane over here. Next time someone in charge tells you not to shoot, you. Don’t. Shoot.” She pointed her finger in Andrea’s face repeatedly to permeate her statement, “You’re a full grown woman I can’t believe I have to tell you that but to be fair, you have been mopin’ about like a child since I met you, so I shouldn’t really be surprised, should I?”

Tears were dripping down her face in a heavy stream, but she couldn’t bring herself to wipe them away.

“Look, I’m sorry, I made a mistake, but I was tired of everyone treating me like I couldn’t do anything. I knew I could make the shot, and I took it. I didn’t know it was Daryl.”

(n/n) took in a sharp breath and responded in kind: “There is a difference between feminist rebellion and being a fuckin’ dumbass.”

“Excuse me?”

“The CDC was a real sausage fest. I was told every day I’d never make it in the field, but I buckled down, and I did my work better than any of the others, and I proved myself useful. Most importantly, when a higher-up told me to do somethin’ or not to do somethin’ I listened. Because in there, much like out here, one little fuckup costs lives.” (y/n) made a large sweeping motion towards the house where Daryl was currently being treated for his wounds.

“You are unstable and unpredictable, and you’re a danger to the group. You’ve proved that perfectly today. There was a good fuckin’ reason Dale took your gun; remember that.”

As she finished her statement, Rick grabbed her shoulder and yanked her back.

“Hey, hey! What’s goin’ on out here?”

He looked down at Andrea on the ground, doing her best not to cry, and then up to (y/n), who was already in the middle of bawling her eyes out.

Rick tugged her to his chest and she finally broke down all the way, wailing into her friend’s shirt. He let her, telling her Daryl was fine, he was going to be fine, everything’s fine.

When she’d calmed down enough, she tapped his chest to signal she was alright and felt something almost like padding in his pocket. Confused, she reached into his shirt and found a shoelace covered in ears that he’d been hiding from the others. When (y/n) realized this, she gasped, letting it drop to the ground with a disgusted utterance of “Good Lord!”

Rick would have laughed if her face wasn't still covered in tears.


	8. Patched Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl's been patched up physically, but can the reader patch the hole that's been created in their relationship?

Daryl had been conscious for a little bit as he was being patched up but had gone to sleep shortly afterward. (y/n) had been allowed to enter the room once Rick and Shane cleared out, and that’s where she remained the rest of the day. Carol had claimed she’d finished Pride and Prejudice and had lent it back to (y/n) to keep her occupied while she waited for him to wake up, but she’d spied the bookmark slyly tucked inside the pages around three quarters through the book and made a note not to disturb it as she flipped through the pages, reading through her favorite bits and skimming through others.

About two hours after she’d first sat down, he awoke, stirring slowly, and then freezing. Head whipping around to look at her. She closed the book, putting it off to the side.

“Whatcha doin’ in here, Princess?” he growled lowly.

She smiled. She didn’t care if he was mad at her, she was just relieved he was alright.

“Waitin’ for you to wake up. How ya feelin’, Sleepin’ Beauty?”

He moved his head back to look at the ceiling while letting out his breath in a forced huff, “feel like I just walked four miles through the woods with a puncture wound in my side, only to be shot at for my troubles.”

“Yeah? an’ how does that feel?”

“Shitty.”

She grabbed for his hand, but he pulled it back harshly, covering himself up to his chin with the blanket.

“Thought you was mad at me. Whatcha doin’ in here?” his tone was bitter, suspicious, even.

She could hardly blame him, seeing as how when he’d left, she’d been ready to never speak to him again, but that didn’t mean it was alright for him to shut her down when she was trying to extend an olive branch.

“I wanna talk this out, and seein’ as you’re in no position to run from the conversation, I think now’s a good time.”

He stared her down idly, and continued to hike up the blanket, “So talk.”

With a sigh, she closed her eyes and organized her thoughts.

“ When Rick and Shane carried you back into the house and you were unconscious and bleedin’, with a hole in your side an’ a cut ‘cross your forehead from a bullet, I wasn’t mad at you for goin’ out alone, or at Rick for lettin’ you, or at Andrea for shootin’—oh, no actually, I was pretty mad at Andrea.”

She heard a hint of a laugh from him at that, but only paused briefly to smile before continuing on

“No, actually, I was madder at myself. I watched you leave, an’ I wanted so bad to call out; to tell you to stay safe, to be careful, but I didn’t. After you got back an’ Hershel was workin’ on you, I just paced ‘round the kitchen, an’ some part of me felt like maybe if I’d just grown some balls and told you to be safe, maybe you would’ve listened. Maybe you would have come back alright. Look, I don’t care if you wanna pretend that night in the CDC didn’t happen. ‘s alright if you don’t see me romantically. I just-I’d never forgive myself if somethin’ happened an’ you and I left each other on bad terms.”

She’d been looking down at her hands for most of it, fiddling with the edge of the comforter as she talked, fingering the loose stitches in the fabric, but when saying her last sentence she dared to look at him, meeting his eyes, before moving her gaze to the gauze wrapped around his head, fixing her sight on the patch of red that’d gradually appeared over the time he’d been asleep.

“That’s whatchu want? T’ forget that night in the CDC?” he asked, finally. His face practically unreadable, tone attempting indifference.

“Oh, so you’re admittin’ you remember, huh?”

“Jus’ answer the damn question, Princess.” He huffed, turning his face away from her.

She smiled sheepishly, returning her gaze to the stitching of the comforter she was still playing with.

“Honestly? I don’t know if I _can_ forget it. I find myself thinkin’ ‘bout it a lot.”

She felt him shift, turning his body towards her, but she didn’t look up again, choosing to keep her gaze down.

“how so?”

She shrugged, feeling the heat in her cheeks.

“dunno, I just…”  she growled a little, trying to find the right words, she buried her face in her hands a second before wiping them down her face and continuing, “So at the time, I’d thought I was gonna die the next day, right? You’d seemed like you showed interest, an’ I figured one last romp ‘fore I got blown t’ smithereens didn’t sound half bad, but I didn’t want you wakin’ up the next day with a hangover and a metric ton of regret. I figured if you remembered in the mornin’ and you were still up for it you’d come find me ‘fore the lights went out. You didn’t do that though, an’ we didn’t end up dyin’ either. Most of my free time after that was thinkin’ ‘bout Jenner, but I also found myself thinkin’ about what might’ve happened ‘tween us if I’d just… ya know, gone for it.”

When she looked back up at him, his face still seemed guarded, but his brows seemed less furrowed, and his whole posture seemed less rigid.

“What d’ya think mighta happened?” he asked quietly

She shook her head as she chuckled, “nuh-uh. I’ve been answerin’ the questions this whole time. You gotta answer some now. ‘s only fair.”

He seemed uncomfortable but agreed.

The question had been on the tip of her tongue since the other day, and she used that tongue to wet her lips before she answered. She watched with muted delight as Daryl followed the movement with his eyes.

“Why’d you lie?”

Now he was the one watching her fiddle with the blanket.

“I was givin’ you an out, I guess. Ya just pulled back so quick that night, I figured ya must’ve realized what you were doin’ and made an excuse t’ stop.”

She continued to laugh lightly at his answer, just as confused as she’d been before he’d given it, “What was it that I was doin’?”

“huh?”

“You said I realized what I was doin’. What was I doin’?”

He really seemed like he wanted to crawl away from her and her prodding questions if the sour look on his face told her anything. It was bizarre, seeing the man that’d been gruff and loud and, at times, even cheeky be so hot under the collar over just a few questions pertaining to romance. It was like the confident, capable man melted away and all that was left was a blushing teenager.

“Shit, Princess, you know.”

“No, I don’t, that’s why I asked. Care to enlighten me?”

“That’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout! You’re smart! You use words like ‘enlighten’, an’ you work for the fuckin’ government, an’ yer gorgeous! Me? I’m a redneck who barely finished high school. People like us don’t mix. That’s not how the world works.”

she felt bad for continuing to laugh at the things he was saying, but it seemed so ridiculous. “Says who? ‘sides, even if that was how the world works--which it ain’t—That world’s dead, now. Plus, you ain’t stupid, if that’s what you’re getting’ at, Mister uses-walkers-as-camouflage. Mister expert tracker. Mister walker-killin’-machine. You’re a confident and capable person, so where the hell is all this deprecation comin’ from?” she huffed, a little exasperated, “’sides all that, you really think I’m…gorgeous?”

ignoring her questions, he simply asked one of his own.

“Shouldn’t you be down at dinner? Whatchu doin’ up here with me?”

“I’d rather be up here.” She permeated the statement by pulling the blanket down and grasping for his hand again. He let her, though he couldn’t look at her, so he chose to look at the bedside table behind her.

“That’s the book you’s readin’ t’ Carol.”

She smiled, leaning back, and grabbing the book with the hand she wasn’t using to grasp Daryl’s.

“Yeah. I lent it to her the night ‘fore we all escaped. Thought it burnt up, but she’d brought it out with ‘er. Y’ever read it?”

He shook his head, and when she gave the description he scoffed, “Sounds like a girl book.”

“Gettin’ a little playfully sexist there, but you’re right. ’s a girl book. To the effect that it’s basically the 18th-century version of a feminist masterpiece.” She smiled softly, laying the book in her lap as she traced the title on the cover with her finger.

“You really like it, huh?” he asked, looking over her face as if memorizing the fond grin upon it.

“’s my favorite.” She replied.

He removed his hand from hers, and she looked up as he turned back on his back, laying his head on the pillows.

“Well go on then. Read. Y’did it for Carol.”

Her fond grin broke into a dazzling smile, and Daryl thought he might go blind from how bright she was. She opened the book, and in the dim oil lamplight, she began to read.

“ _It’s a truth, universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife_.”

“Oh shit. ‘s one of _those_ books.”

“You want me to read ‘er not?”

“Fine, keep goin’, but you got shitty taste in favorites.”

She had a feeling he wasn’t just talking about the book, so she leaned forward, taking his hand again. He didn’t pull back again for a while after that.


	9. If It Barks Like A Dog...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The barn is full of walkers, and the group is starting to get antsy

It wasn’t until Carol came in with a tray full of food that (y/n) left. As soon as the other woman walked into the room the two flung apart like teens caught making out, hands tearing away from each other as if their shared touch suddenly burned.

“(n/n), I saved some dinner for you, it’s on the kitchen counter, covered in saran wrap for when you want it.”  The woman mentioned casually, not even trying to hide the knowing smirk on her face, like a cat who just caught a canary. Or more accurately, a cat who just caught two canaries cozying up together with a romance novel.

“T-thanks, Carol. I should… probably let ‘im rest, anyway. night, Daryl.”

“g’ night, (n/n).” He called back, watching her leave before meeting Carols knowing gaze and flipping over to face away, using the blanket to cover himself again.

~

The next morning brought significantly less hostile interactions between the pair. If the group noticed the sly glances the two shot at one another when they thought the other person wasn’t looking, they didn’t mention it, though Carol had to dodge a crispy piece of bacon as she walked passed them whistling a wedding march.

(y/n) grabbed a peach from the barrel Glen carried as someone casually asked him what was up.

“Nothing’s up.” He said a bit too quickly, causing (y/n)’s eyebrows to raise as she bit into the fruit.

Looking to Dale and T-Dog, she spoke through her half-chewed peach flesh “Oh, somethin’s definitely up.”

she didn’t have a chance to pry, as she spotted Andrea making her way towards Daryl’s tent. The guy was currently resting, and poking holes in the netting of his tent with an arrow.

She made it over just in time to hear Daryl’s warning of: “You shoot me again; you best pray I’m dead.”

As Andrea vacated, she avoided (n/n)’s eyes as she greeted the woman good morning, and (y/n) gave a non-committed hello back before plopping down in the spot the woman had just gotten up from.

Daryl sat up to watch the blonde go, chuckling a bit “Damn, Princess, what’d you do to her to get her to scurry like that?”

(y/n) rolled her eyes. “Nothin’ she won’t recover from. Just yelled at her a bit. Want a bite?” she asked, holding out her half-eaten fruit to him.

He took it, looking her in the eyes as he took a bite, handed it back, and proceeded to lick the juice from his fingers. She felt her face grow hot in a not unfamiliar way when it came to Daryl Dixon, though she hadn’t been this worked up since that day she’d thought about being on the back of his bike.

“You have somethin’ to talk ‘bout or did you just come to let me eat yer peach?”

Oh, that cheeky bitch. Where had this been the night before? Obviously, whatever it was they’d worked out, whatever’d been spoken between the lines gave him some sort of confidence to get borderline flirtatious when not in the others’ direct company, and (n/n) found that she was kind of… loving it.

She laughed if off shaking her head, “Well, I saw Andrea, and I thought I’d come to save you. Looks like you handled it fairly well on your own, so just the peach eatin’ I guess.” He smiled, looking down at the arrow in his hands.

“Jesus, you found her doll the other day. I almost forgot ‘bout that in all that mess.”

He laid back to stare at the ceiling of the tent, “We’re gettin’ so close to findin’ her.”

“No, _you’re_ gettin’ close. Rick’s tryin’ to look for Sophia, but it’s hard to keep everything under control over here and still have time to go wanderin’ out in the woods, and Shane’s all but given up. If anyone finds that little girl, It’s gonna be you.”

He attempted to get up at that, as if he just remembered to do something “If that’s the case, then I should be getting’ back out there.”

She yelled out a string of ‘no’s at that, pushing him back down, but he fought her, pushing through what little strength she had. She pushed back harder, moving to sit over his stomach, wary of the puncture wound.

“No, If she survived out there this long, she can wait another day ‘er two for you to get better. Ain’t doin’ that poor girl any favors by goin’ out an dyin’ yourself.”

She’d been too focused on getting him to stay down, that (y/n) hadn’t even realized their position until she noticed how red Daryl’s ears were getting.

“S-so, what? You just gonna straddle me ‘till I’m healed? Kind of embarassin’.” He let out in a panic, motioning towards the others, most of whom were watching their exchange.

She chanced a nervous wave at them, most waving back with a look of confusion. Carl turned to ask his mother something (y/n) couldn’t hear, but the shushing chuckle that Lori gave him was mortifying enough for her to practically jump off the man under her.

“Just… don’t push yourself, please.” She finally uttered.

~

Shane had given the gun training he’d been promising, and finally, (y/n) felt comfortable enough with her gun to feel confident with her shooting. She walked back towards the cars with a little extra pep in her step.

Carol walked beside her “You’re extra chipper today.”

(y/n) grinned, holding up her pistol to the other woman “Yeah, well, I’m a regular Laura Croft with this thing now. Kinda gives you confidence, you know?”

The other woman chuckled a bit “Yes, and I’m sure it’s got nothing to do with whatever I walked in on last night… or earlier this morning. Out in broad daylight in front of a child. So brazen!”

(y/n) shoved her lightly letting out an embarrassed uttering of ‘shut up’. Before continuing the conversation.

“You seem to be doin’ better.” She commented, noticing how Carol joked and grinned. She didn’t think she’d ever seen Carol this carefree.

“Yeah, well, we’ve found somewhere safe to settle down, and Daryl; he’s gonna find my little girl. I know he will. And if he doesn’t, then maybe… maybe it’s for the best.” Carol offered up a watery smile, and (y/n) pulled her into a side hug, rubbing her shoulder as they walked the rest of the way to the cars.

~

(y/n) sat down the next morning enjoying the group's comfortable silence, with only the sound of Carol cooking eggs and Andrea sharpening a knife to break it. She felt Daryl drop down in the chair next to her, handing her a plate of breakfast. (y/n) hummed in pleasure at the smell of the hot meal.

“Oh, Carol, Baby, you keep feedin’ me like this I’ll never slim down ‘nough for my jacket to hang loose on me,” She joked, digging in.

Daryl scoffed beside her. “Typical. The world ends an’ yer still worried ‘bout yer figure. Ya look great. Just eat.”

Before she can retort, Glen stands up in front of the crowd, getting everyone to pause what they’re doing.

“So, The barn’s full of walkers.”

Everyone paused, as a deafening silence, not quite as comfortable as the last, covered the group like a blanket.

“…Glen, this better be another hypothetical pertaining to you an’ Maggie’s sex life.”

~

The group crowded around the barn, debating what to do.

Shane stared into the crack in the barn doors “You cannot be alright with this, Rick.”

“No, I’m not, but we’re guests, it’s not our land.”

“This is our lives, man!” Shane practically yelled. Some of the others told him to quiet down, but he didn’t listen, “This ain’t right. Not remotely. We’ve either gotta go in there and fix this, or we gotta go. We’ve been talkin’ ‘bout Fort Bennet for a while.”

“We can’t Just go.” Rick interrupted.

“My daughter is still out there,” Carol added weakly.

Shane sighed, beginning to suggest the unthinkable, creating an uproar of protest from the others.

“I’m close to finding ‘er! I found ‘er doll just the other day!” Daryl called, yelling loudly over the others.

“A doll, man. You found a doll. An’ let’s be real here; If she saw you, all methed up with your buck knife, and geek ears ‘round your neck, she’d run in the other direction.”

At that, Daryl and Shane began to charge at each other, as Rick and the others struggled to keep them apart. (y/n) threw herself at Daryl, wrapping her arms around his middle, leaving lines in the dirt from where she dug her feet into the ground to slow his momentum. He finally conceded, choosing instead to wrap an arm around her shoulders and keep her close as the yelling continued.

“Let me talk to Hershel.” Rick finally pleaded, “let me figure it out.”

“What is there to figure out?!”

“If we’re going to stay, if we’re going to clear this barn, we have to talk him into it. This is his land.”

Rick’s statement was filled with logic and critical thinking, but Shane was having none of it, as the man scoffed and marched a little further away from the rest of the group before circling back again.

Dale reminded Rick that it wouldn’t be easy to convince. “He sees them as sick people. His wife, his stepson.”

The yelling continued and stopped only when the barn doors began to shake violently with the force of the aggravated walkers behind it.

(y/n) gasped, as Daryl wrapped his other arm around her waist, and backed up, dragging her away from the barn. She squeezed his middle in fright, not even having the luxury of enjoying the warmth or the strength in his arms in the direness of the situation as the group stared on at the shaking doors.

~

(y/n) took a walk around the fields, Rick at her side. They’d been silent for a bit, but soon Rick broke the silence. “You agree with me about the barn, right?” he needed the validation, she could tell. He was making the tough decisions, and it seemed like at every turn he had to butt heads with his best friend over them.

“Yes, I agree. If we want to continue to stay here while we look for Sophia, we got to make sure Hershel stays hospitable, but we also can’t leave those walkers in there. It ain’t safe.”

He nodded, placated at least, that she was on his side.

“I’ve been thinkin’; When somethin’ affects the group this much, we can’t afford to keep them in the dark. We have to tell them, (n/n). Soon.”

They’d been going back and forth over the decision to tell the group about the disease, and at this point, (y/n) knew there was no squirming out of it.

She sighed heavily, shaking her head.

“Alright.” She finally said.

“So, you agree?” he asked again, this time marginally more surprised.

“No,” she answered immediately and honestly, “but I trust your judgment, an’ I’ll follow your lead. Whenever you decide to tell ‘em, let me know. I’ll be there beside you.”

He let out the breath he was holding, deflating in visible relief at her statement. “Thank you. Honestly. If only Shane were half as agreeable as you.” he joked, but she could hear the bitterness in his tone.

“Hey, if his spot in the lineup needs refillin’, you gimmie a call. I got plenty of experience bein’ an assistant.” She joked, elbowing him in the side.

They waved goodbye as Rick went off to try and find Lori. (y/n) continued to wander, no real job to be done at the moment. That’s how she found herself running into Shane.

He gave a low whistle as she approached. “First Jenner, then Daryl, now Rick. You certainly _do_ get around, don’tcha?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t think I like what you’re insinuatin’, Shane. You know it ain’t like that. ‘sides, I’d never do that to Lori. Not the way you did it to Rick.”

His expression changed; less accusatory, more angry.

“Yes, I do know ‘bout that. Most of the camp does.”

He huffed, backing down a bit, “Yer a smart little thing, I’ll give ya that. You gotta know that these things need to be put down. We can’t afford to waste time askin’ for permission from Doctor Dolittle.”

She crossed her arms, fed up with his behavior. “Maybe not. But that’s what Rick’s decided to do, so that’s what we’re gonna do.”

He growled, rubbing his hands over his face. “That’s right, I forgot. Yer his little pet. Followin’ him around an’ doin’ whatever he says. You and Daryl both.”

“He’s our leader, Shane. I might not agree with everythin’ he says ‘er does, but I respect it. He hasn’t steered us wrong yet-“

“-He led us right into a building about to detonate!” he yelled, exasperated.

“And thank Christ he did, or I’d be dead right now,” (y/n) yelled right back.

That shut him up.

She took a second to center her breathing before she continued in a low voice, that carried the weight of the ending of the discussion.

“Look. I owe that man my life. He got me out, an’ he took me in. I’ll follow him wherever he leads me. If that makes me his pet, well then; Bark, Bark.” With that, she turned around and walked off.


	10. Ripped Stuffing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People deal with grief in different ways.

(y/n) thought the conversation was over, but apparently not. Later in the day, Shane came stomping towards the house with the bag of firearms. (y/n) immediately got up from her perch on the RV and hurried over to meet him.

“What the hell is this?” she asked warily.

“Down, Girl. Heel.” He spat. Seems he was taking the whole pet comment and making it a regular thing. She had to admit, she preferred it over being called ‘Sweetheart’, though not by much.

He held a gun out to Daryl as he asked, “You with me, man?”

Daryl took it gladly, cocking the gun, before turning to follow Shane on his warpath.

(y/n) was dumbstruck by the lack of reluctance to disobey Rick shown by these people she’s come to consider close friends and family.

“Time to grow up.” He said, as he began to pass out the weapons, “Look it was one thing sitting around picking daisies when we thought it was safe, but now we know it ain’t. You gonna protect yours?” Shane asked, holding a gun out to Glen.

After a second’s hesitation, he took it.

“This is ridiculous!” (y/n) squawked, “Rick is handlin’ this. Maybe not in a way you agree with, but he’s handlin’ it. You can’t just search and destroy everythin’ you don't like, that ain’t how life works.”

“Maybe that's not how it used to be, but this is how it is now. Either step up, or step back, but don’t get in the way, little doggie.” He said, scratching at her hair roughly before she could swat his hands away.

“Hey!” Daryl said, smacking Shane’s extended arm with the butt of the shotgun.

Shane just turned to eye him, rolling his eyes with a huff.

“Can you stop?” Maggy requested firmly, “You pass out those guns, you do this, and my dad will make you leave. Tonight.”

“We have to stay, Shane.” Carl piped up.

(y/n) stood by them, relieved that at least she wasn’t the only one shouting ‘no’.                                                                                                                                                                 

“What is this?” Lori asked.

She wasn’t fully aware of the situation, but (y/n) could already tell she was fed up with whatever Shane was doing.

“Hershel, he’s just gotta understand okay? He’s gonna have to.” Shane stated, finally. His mind was made up, and it wasn’t changing, “An’ we need to find Sophia.”

He bent down to Carl’s level and held out a pistol. “I want you to take this, you keep your mother safe, you do whatever it takes. You know how. Go on, take the gun and do it.”

(y/n) stepped up beside him, tucking the boy into her side. “He doesn’t have to do anythin’ he doesn’t want to, Shane.”

“Rick said no guns; this is not your call.” Lori said, bite in her tone, “This is not your decision to make.”

“Oh Shit,” they heard T-Dog call as he stared out into the fields of the property.

Rick, Hershel, and Jimmy walked across the grass, Walkers on leads.

“What is that?” Shane hissed as he began to sprint angrily.

“Shane!” (y/n) barked, right on his heels as they sprinted towards the figures at the end of the field.

“Are you kidding me?” he yelled once he got there, “You see what they’re holdin’ on to?”

“I see _who_ I’m holdin’ on to.”

“No, you don’t,” Shane shut the vet down, immediately.

Rick tried to calm him down but there was no placating him.

“These things ain’t sick, they’re not people. They’re dead. Ain’t gotta feel nothin’ for ‘em ‘cause all they do? They Kill! They got Amy, they got Otis. They’re gonna kill all of us unless we do somethin’.”

Rick yelled, finally fed up, telling Shane to shut up.

“Hey, Hershel, let me ask you somethin’. A livin’, breathin’ person--Could they walk away from this?” Shane asked, and he proceeded to put five rounds into the walker on Hershel’s lead.

“Shane! Enough!” (y/n) screeched, finally reaching for his gun.

The man growled, holding the pistol out of her reach. “Rick, man, would you call off your fuckin’ Chihuahua?”

he emphasized the word by shoving her harshly to the ground, making her fall right in front of the walker he just shot. The thing lunged at her, pulling against the lead and (y/n) yelped, trying to back away.

Daryl, up to this point, had held his shotgun up, pointed at the heads of the walkers, but as soon as he saw (n/n) fall, he dropped it, rushing to pick her up and drag her to her feet. She was now covered in dirt and completely shaken, but that didn’t stop her from sending Shane the most venomous glare she could manage.

Daryl, clearly outraged, picked up the shotgun again, but didn’t point it anywhere but at the ground, eyeing up Shane as if waiting for him to make a false move towards the woman beside him.

“That was five rounds to the chest. If it was still alive, could they take that? Why is it still comin’?” He asked, before firing again, shooting the walker even more.

“Shane, that’s enough!”

“Yeah, you’re right. It is enough.” He said finally, raising his pistol and shooting it between the eyes.

“Enough lookin’ for a little girl who’s gone! Enough livin’ next to a barn full of things that want to kill us. If y’all want to live, to survive. Y’all gotta fight. Right here, right now.” As soon as he said that, he rushed towards the barn, grabbing a pickaxe and bashing at the doors.

They finally opened, and the hoard in the barn rushed out.

“Shit.” (y/n) whispered as she finally held out her hand for her pistol; The one she knew Shane had on hand knowing she'd eventually bend to his will. He smirked as he slammed it into her grip.

The group began to fire, until all the walkers that filed out were on the ground, finally put to rest.

In the following quiet, (y/n) lowered her pistol, and turned to Shane, marginally unimpressed.

“Satisfied, you lunatic?”

“Actually, yes.” He responded, out of breath.

Eventually, though, a low, weak growl began to sound from the darkness of the barn. (y/n) turned in slow motion.

Her stomach dropped at the sound, and somehow, she knew exactly what she was going to see when she turned around to face the barn again, but she still took a shaky gasp when she saw Carol’s little girl; or rather, what was left of her.

“Sophia? Sophia!” Carol cried, rushing forward. (y/n) ran to catch her, but Daryl beat her to it, grabbing her around the middle, and keeping her from rushing forward. (y/n) came to kneel in front of her, blocking her from seeing the state of her daughter.

“(n/n)--(n/n) move, that’s my daughter. My daughter. Sophia!”

(y/n) refused, grabbing Carol’s face in both of her hands, and connecting their foreheads.

“No, it ain’t. That ain’t Sophia anymore, and You don’t gotta look. I won’t let you see ‘er like that.”

Carol cried, clutching (y/n)’s hair and pulling on it hard, trying to get her to move, but she held strong.

Despite the pain Carol put her through with the yanking on her scalp, (y/n) only winced when she heard Rick fire the gun.

~

“They’re ready.” Lori said into the RV, “Come on.”

 (y/n) stood behind her, silent as the grave. Appropriate for the situation at hand.

“Why?”

“ ‘cuz that’s your little girl,” Daryl whispered to her from his place on the counter.

“That’s not my little girl, that’s some other…thing. My Sophia was alone in the woods. She didn’t cry herself to sleep. She didn’t go hungry. She didn’t try to find her way back. Sophia died a long time ago.”

Lori took that answer, and left, but (y/n) stayed behind.

She moved into the booth across from Carol and sat in the silence a while. When Carol took a big breath, about to tell her to leave, (y/n) spoke up.

“Can I tell you a story, Carol?”

The woman turned to look at her, and the strong tone she used. It wasn’t soft, it wasn’t pitying, it was strong.

Carol let the breath out. “Is it about a loved one you lost?”

(y/n) shook her head. Once.

“Nope.”

“Then go ahead.”

She looked over at Daryl, who eyed her with confusion as she began to speak.

“When I was growin’ up, I practiced the martial arts. I practiced all the way up ‘till college. At my Dojo, there was this punchin’ bag on a stand, an’ it was covered in the softest material you’d ever seen. You could hit it all day long, an’ never break the skin on your knuckles. Underneath all that, however, at the center, was steel. This thing was already beat to shit when I started trainin’, an’ I watched for close to two decades as this thing took beatin’ after beatin’. Punches, kicks, wooden swords, plastic daggers, you name it. As the years went by, it had finally been beaten on so much that most of the stuffin’ had been ripped off, an’ all that was left was the steel. No one could hit it, or they’d break somethin’; be it a weapon or their own damn limbs. You see where I’m goin’ with this?”

Carol stared at her, still looking as far off as she had been when she’d sat down. She shook her head.

(y/n) shrugged, “alright. Maybe someday you’ll get it.” She got up to leave, Daryl watching her, just as confused by her story as Carol was.

“(n/n), wait.”

The woman stopped to look over her shoulder.

“Thank you. For not treating me like I’m broken.”

(y/n) faced the direction she was headed and began to descend the stairs. “You ain’t broken, Carol. You just got some of your stuffin’ ripped off.”

She didn’t stay to see the dawning realization flash on her companions’ faces, or the brief, appreciative smile Carol shot at her retreating figure.

~

(y/n) wandered about after the funeral, lost in her own thoughts. She was a scientific person, so she never really believed in God. In her own mind, there was no logic to it. Though that wasn’t to say she denied his existence outright. Who was she to decide for sure what was truly going on in the universe? As a scientist, she worked off theories and hypothesis, and it’s impossible to confirm something for certain without multiple conclusive tests. But now, she figured it didn’t really matter. Even if there was a god, they didn’t deserve worship. Not if they let things like this happen. The dead rising from their graves, people like Carol losing their children…

“God, if you’re real, an’ you can hear me… Fuck you.” She spat, wiping a tear away.

From behind her, she sensed someone approach. When she whipped around, she came face to face with Rick.

“Hershel’s missin’, but I think I know where he’s gone. Care to help me talk some sense into ‘im?” he asked, not bothering to ask what she was doing wandering the fields or why she was crying. He was already aware.

He also already knew how (y/n) was going to respond.

“Lead the way.”


	11. E-I-E-I-Uh-Oh.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Rick, The reader, and Glen go to retrieve Hershel, they get into way more trouble than they'd bargained for.

(y/n) waited in the passenger seat of the rickety van, feet up on the dash. She was staring out the windshield at Glen and Maggie’s exchange. She couldn’t help but think about Daryl and her being that close and affectionate. She wasn’t sure what they were at the moment, but maybe one day, they’d get where Glen and Maggie were. As Glen approached the car, Rick let out the question: “You ready?” The boy nodded in confirmation and got in the back of the cab.

The drive was mostly silent until Glen finally spoke up.

“Maggie says she loves me. She doesn’t mean it. She’s upset, or-or confused, or she’s-“

“I think she’s smart enough to know what she’s feelin’,” Rick replied.

“No. No. She wants to be in love, she-she needs something to hold onto-“

“Glen, Maggie loves you. Why wouldn’t she? You’re sweet, you’re handsome, an’ you treat her well. She loves you, so what’s the problem?” (y/n) chuckled.

“I didn’t say it back.” He answered sheepishly.

(y/n) raised her eyebrows at that, making eye contact with him through the rearview mirror, amused grin still on her face, but it took on a new connotation when matched with the look in her eyes.

“I’ve never had a woman say it to me before. Except for my mom, of course, and my sisters, but with Maggie it’s different.” He said, “I didn’t know what to do, I just stood there like a jerk.”

“Hey,” Rick soothed, “This is a good thing. Something we don’t get enough of these days.”

(y/n) smiled again, warmly, turning to fully look at her friend in the backseat, “Yeah, enjoy it.”

Glen rolled his eyes, muttering something about her being in no position to tease him, and she simply gave him her middle finger.

The car came to a stop, and before they could leave the cab, Glen said one more thing.

“Rick… I know about Lori… about her being pregnant.”

This was news to (y/n), though she couldn’t really say she was any shade of surprised. With everything that’s been thrown at them so far, this might as well happen, too.

“Yeah,” Rick said, “I figured.”

The three of them exited the car and began to creep their way into the bar.

~

It took a lot of yelling, circular arguments, and coercing, but Rick had finally convinced Hershel to come back when the trouble hit.

Two strangers entered the bar, as the group turned to stare.

“Sonofabitch, they’re alive.”

These men walked in like they owned the place, sitting down and beginning to make friendly chatter. The larger of the two had his eyes roaming over the group, but once they got to (y/n), they stopped, and that’s where they stayed. It left a bad taste in her mouth, almost immediately.

Drinks were soon poured and handed out, as the men introduced themselves as Dave and Tony. Tony, who still constantly slid glances in (y/n)’s direction spoke up when he noticed she wasn’t holding a glass.

“What’s the matter, Honey? Not a fan of booze?”

“She’s abstinent,” Rick replied for her, in a friendly manner.

“Shit. Wasn’t askin’ for her sex life, but good to know.” He and his companion laughed heartily, and Rick gave a grimace of a smile.

(y/n) wasn’t a fan of the looks she was getting, or that last comment, but otherwise, they seemed like nice guys. Glen seemed to think they were friendly enough.

“And you, old man? You not drinkin’?”

“I just quit.”

Rick went on to explain how many people Hershel lost that day, and the man, Dave, raised his glass in a toast.

“To better days. To new friends, and to our dead. May they be in a better place.”

The group members who were drinking, raised their glasses solemnly before the conversation continued, straying to the topic of different rumors of safety the men had followed, ranging from refugee centers to ferries taking people to islands. When Rick mentioned Fort Benning, the men informed him it was a lost cause.

Like that, the group no longer had a destination.

After that, the men began to sway the conversation towards lodging. Specifically, Where Rick, (n/n) and the others were staying.

“Doesn’t look like you’re hanging’ your hats here, you holed up somewhere else?”

Rick let the question hang for a beat, before answering, “Not really.”

When he said that, (y/n) was immediately at his side. Not physically, but mentally. Already concocting lies believable for every conceivable question. Lies, half-truths, and fibs. If Rick didn’t want these men to have the location of their people, she was sure as shit not going to give it to them.

The two opposing forces began the battle of wits.

“Those your cars out front?” Dave asked casually,

When Glen confirmed that they were, Dave continued to ask where their stuff was.

“We’re with a larger group,” Hershel said, “Out scouting. Thought we could use a drink.”

“A drink? Hershel, I thought you quit. An’ Little Miss Abstinence, what about her?”

The group sat in silence, having been caught in their ruse, (y/n) jumped in, speaking for the first time since the men showed up.

“Yes, well, that’s just the excuse they used t’ get me t’ take a breather. We recently discovered that I’m pregnant, an’ even though I’m not even showin’ yet, these idiots constantly make me take breaks.” She laughed falsely, rubbing at her own stomach affectionately.

“Congratulations.” Tony blurted out, “which one of these lucky bastards is the father?” he said, pointing an accusatory finger at Rick, then Glen, and finally, almost mockingly, at Hershel.

“Oh, he’s not here. He’s out scoutin’ with the others.” (y/n) said in a false dreamy tone, as she spoke of her pretend baby daddy.

“He left his pregnant wife to go scouting?” Dave said, doubtful.

“Oh, well, he knew Rick wouldn’t let _anythin’_ harm me. ‘sides, they need ‘im out there more than I need ‘im in here.” She leaned towards Dave a little bit, letting her tone harden minutely, the threat veiled, but still there as she said: “He’s real handy with a crossbow.”

Dave chuckled darkly, “Oh, I believe you, Honey.”

He didn’t believe her for a second, and she knew it.

“Well, in any case,” he continued, “We’re thinking of setting up around here, is it safe?”

“It can be,” Glen continued, and (y/n) felt like they were stepping on eggshells. She sensed that maybe, Glen didn’t fully realize the threat these men posed, yet. “Though I’ve killed a few Walkers around here.”

That got the group talking about names for the walking corpses until it finally was edged back to the topic of where the group had set up.

“You guys set up on the outskirts? A trailer park or something? a farm?”

Tony got up, beginning to piss in a far-off corner of the bar as Dave began to sing Old McDonald. (y/n)’s skin prickled. So, they knew. They’d been listening to their argument, at the very least.

They began to fixate on the farm, asking about food and water, and shelter…

“You got cooze? I mean, ‘sides Preggers over here… man, I haven’t had a piece of ass in weeks.” Tony said from his piss corner.

Subtly, Rick shifted towards (y/n), making it so she was somewhat behind him while Dave began to apologize, claiming Tony was from the city, and that he meant no disrespect, though disrespect was definitely provided, and (y/n) moved her hand casually to the back of the barstool, making it look like she was leaning back, but really, she wanted her hand closer to the pistol tucked into her shorts.

He began to try talking to Glen again, picking up on what (y/n) had, that Glen was the most likely to let something slip, but before he could, Rick stopped him, attempting to put an end to the conversation.

They began to try and coerce Rick into letting them stay on the farm, not even denying that they knew anymore, but Rick refused to budge. The men began to get agitated, and (y/n)’s hand twitched behind her, itching to grab at her pistol.

“Sorry, but we don’t know anything about you.”

“That’s right you don’t know anything about us. You don’t know what we’ve had to go through out there. The things we’ve had to do.”

“The things you’ve done to others?” (n/n) accused.

“I bet you’ve had to do some of those same things, yourselves, am I right?”

Rick said absolutely nothing. They continued to prod, trying to get him to budge, but he wouldn’t.

“This is bullshit!”

“Hey, calm down,” Rick commanded.

“Don’t you tell me to calm down, I’ll shoot you three assholes in the head, take the lying bitch, and the damn farm.” Tony threatened, growing agitated enough to make (y/n) jump down from her stool and climb over the bar counter to stand behind Glen.

Dave began to speak again, requesting everyone to just relax. (n/n) had never been more high-strung.

He also climbed over the bar and began to make himself a drink. He talked some more, but really it was all a ruse. He was trying to lull Rick into a false sense of security so he could whip out his pistol, but Rick beat him to the punch.

Glen grabbed (y/n), making her duck under the bar with him while Rick acted, pulling out his gun, and shooting Dave in the head before turning and shooting Tony in the chest twice, and then again in the head. Ensuring that he wouldn’t come back.

~

It turns out the men had a group nearby that was attracted by the gunshots. Soon they were surrounded and engaged in a shootout. That attracted attention of a different kind. The group made a mad break for the car, managing to make it there before the walkers descended upon them.

(y/n) was straight- up terrified. She hadn’t taken part in the shootout. Despite knowing these men were bad, she still didn’t want to take a life. She wasn’t ready for that.

They’d managed to hold their own, and the army of walkers forced the other group to flee, leaving behind a man who’d fallen on a fence spike.

Despite everything, Rick still wanted to save him. Even as Hershel was urging them to leave.

“Rick!” Hershel exclaimed, rushing across the street to where Rick was attempting to aid the kid, “We have to go now.”

“NO! No, don’t leave me please.”

 (y/n) was soon beside them as well.

“We can’t! We can’t leave him here.” Rick refused

“He was just shooting at us!” Glen exclaimed, exasperated with Rick’s Good-Cop routine. Honestly, (y/n) was a bit perturbed by it as well. She’d had a long day, and she really just wanted to go home.

“He’s a kid!” Rick reprimanded, “(n/n)… You said you’d respect my decisions, no matter what they might be…Please.”

After a beat permeated by the kid’s constant cries, (y/n) sighed, “Alright, how do we get ‘im off that fence?”

 

Rick began to lift, and (n/n) gasped and stopped him harshly.

“You saw what pullin’ the fletchin' of an arrow through a wound did to Daryl, what the fuck do you think that fence point is goin’ to do to that poor boy’s leg?” (y/n) whisper-yelled looking around at the walkers moving in to surround the party.

“Well do you have a better idea?” Rick challenged.

Looking around the area, she realized yes, she did. Moving a little down the sidewalk, she grabbed a pair of hedge shears from the broken window display of a gardening shop. The tool was mostly blade, those blades being around the length of her forearm, and a bit wider. The handles felt good in her hands.

Running back to the boy on the fence, she opened the shears and put the fence peg in between them.

“Glen, I’ll push on this handle, you push on that one.” In tandem, they forced all their weight into pushing the handles closed. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the fence snapped, as did the bolt holding the two blades together. (y/n) gripped her blade tight as she bumped into Glen, forcing her to bounce back and fall against the fence.

“Thank you, thankyouthankyouthankyou.” The boy cried as Hershel and Rick lifted him off without a hitch, carrying him towards the car with Glen not far behind them.

(y/n) moved to get up and follow, but something beyond the fence grabbed at her. A walker gripped her hair and yanked her back, attempting to bite at her neck. She screamed, loudly, and Glen froze in the middle of the road, watching as she struggled. She could see the panic in his eyes, but he couldn’t move. Struggling to get away, she gripped the blade in her hand, and plunged it behind her, catching the walker in the mouth. It struggled against the impromptu weapon, and she tried to force it in deeper, attempting to sever something even remotely brain related from her compromised position. Finally, Rick came to her aid. With a shout of her name, he raised his pistol and shot the monster behind her. She immediately moved to free her hair. The shear fell from the walker’s maw bloodied and landing beside its twin.

She stared at them, not even comprehending why.

“(n/n)! Come on, we need to go!” Rick was at her side, yelling, and checking her neck for bites, of which he found none to his infinite relief.

He began to pull at her, and she finally nodded, assuring him she was coming before snatching up the two shear blades and rushing back to the car with them, practically diving into the passenger seat as Rick sped away from the mass of walkers finally closing in.

~

The whole ride back the boy was talking. It was rather frustrating, because (y/n) could barely focus on the thoughts she should have been lost in.

That had been close. Way too close.

She hadn’t been bullshitting Carol earlier about having trained for nearly two decades, she should have been quicker than that. More prepared, more skilled. Instead, she was left flailing. And the times before that, in the trailer and in the trunk. They’d been messier in some ways, but they had still been executed better than that shit show.

(y/n) breathed in and out, the tremble in her breath was prominent enough for Rick to move a hand from the steering wheel to clasp at her hand, squeezing in a comforting gesture.

“You alright?”

She nodded, slowly. “Yeah. I will be.”  

~

It was morning by the time they made their way back to the farm, and the boy, Randall, had passed out at some point.

(y/n) had been in and out, clutching at the shears the entire ride back.

When they were finally parked in the driveway, Rick shook her to make sure she was awake. She repaid him by smacking at his hand groggily and storming out of the vehicle. She passed Daryl, who seemed more than a little perturbed.

“Where the fuck’d you go?” He asked the group of returning people, mostly aiming his dialogue at (y/n), “I knew Rick was goin’ out, but you never said you were goin’ with ‘im. You should have let me know you were leavin’. I would have gotten straight up when Lori told me to look for you. I was worried fuckin’ sick, Princess, not knowin’ where you were.”

She waved his concern away, not even pausing slightly in her b-line to the fields of grass behind the house.

“An’ why the fuck ‘re you caryin’ broken shears? Is that blood on one of ‘em?”

It was Rick that spoke up in her defense.

“Leave her alone, she’s had a rough night. We all have, but (n/n) especially. She was almost bit last night.”

She didn’t stick around for the following outburst from Daryl, but she defiantly heard it. Alongside Shane’s uproarious displeasure upon finding the group’s little stowaway.


	12. Invisible Battles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader begins to train, but Beth is the one fighting the hard battle.

Rick had set up with the others in the dining room, debriefing them on the events of the previous evening. (y/n) was not present. She didn’t need to be, she knew what happened. Instead, she was out in the yard, swinging the shears like blades, twisting and moving her body in ways that had become long-lost muscle memory. She hadn’t moved like this since she was a teenager, and it showed if her screaming joints and jerky movements were anything to go by. Everything rigid and clumsy, but she knew she’d get better with practice. She angled the blade in a certain way, and when she swung, it cut through the air with a familiar and satisfying _whoosh_ of air.

“What are you doing?” She heard Carl ask from behind her.

“I’m trainin’. Practicin’.” She answered in a short, breathless pause.

She spun in a circle and struck a crescent kick at the air. She felt rather than heard her joint pop in protest.  She’d stretched beforehand, of course, she wasn’t an amateur despite her seven-or-eight-year absence from the sport. It was just that with all her time in Chemistry and Genetics classes, and then later, in labs and bunkers, she had lost most of her flexibility. There was no excuse for that, she could have taken time out in the mornings to stretch and do tai-chi during that entire stint of absence. She’d slacked, deeming it unimportant, and she was kicking herself for that. Never again.

She was not letting herself get that close to death for such a stupid reason ever again.

“Can you teach me some of that stuff? The things you’re doing with those blades?”

She paused to look over at the boy. Despite her deeming her movements rusty and out of practice, it seems she had Carl mesmerized, sitting underneath the shade of a tree.

“I don’t know if your ma would be too keen on you learnin’ how to use these things,” She said, raising one of the shears, “But I could definitely start teachin’ you hand-to-hand stuff. You’re never too early to learn. I started learnin’ when I was younger than you.”

Carl seemed to light up as she tossed the blades to the side and motioned for him to come over. He removed his hat for the first time since he received it and placed it delicately right next to the broken shears on the ground as if that was the spot they’d decided to place their prized possessions. She guessed in a way, it kind of was. Those blades hadn’t left her hands since she’d picked them up, well, until now.

She bent down on one knee and asked him to make a fist. He made a good one, and she nodded to show him she was pleased. “Good, you know to keep your thumb on the outside of your fist.”

“Shane taught me to do that, he never explained why, though.”

“It’s ‘cuz if you tuck ‘em, you’ll break ‘em from the force of the punch.” She answered bluntly.

The boy gulped, body suddenly stiffening.

“Relax. If you do these moves the right way you ain’t gonna hurt yourself, an’ I don’t intend on showin’ you the wrong way. Now, I’m gonna show you the eight basic blocks, you ready?” she asked, putting on the tone her old teacher used to take with her.

The boy nodded once, and she began to teach.

It felt like only seconds later, but she could tell that Carl was sweaty and out of breath by the time Daryl showed up to watch.

(y/n) was laughing with him, encouraging to hit at her hands with more power, demonstrating how to move his body in a way that would give his strike more strength without using the minimal force he possessed before holding her palms back out and continuing to circle him.

“Good! Great! But you can still hit harder than that, I know you can. I ain’t gonna break, you know.”

Carl laughed even harder, smiling like she hadn’t seen, well, ever. Since she met this kid, he’s either been scared out of his wits, close to death, or angry and upset. She had to say, this was a major improvement.

“Carl, your momma wants you inside,” Daryl informed from his position.

When (y/n) looked over, she noticed he was trying to hide a smirk of his own.

(y/n) turned back around, continuing to strike at the air in an impromptu fight with a dozen invisible opponents.

“Where’d all this come from? Never seen you doin’ shit like this before.” He asked, looking amused as he approached her.

“I had a wake-up call the other day. I can’t just keep skirting by with stompin’ on hammers and slammin’ trunk doors. I got a knife, but I can’t even remember how to use it. I’m not lettin’ myself get so far behind again. I can’t afford to be rusty. Not if I wanna survive.”

She turned around to deliver a backfist to the air and it met the palm of Daryl’s hand. The resounding smack was deafening in her ears as she stared into his eyes. This was closer than they’d been to each other in quite a while.

“Need a partner?” He asked. She wasn’t sure if he’d meant it to come off sounding husky and sensual, but damn, it certainly did.

She gave him what she hoped was a flirtatious smile as she turned to face him, hands on guard.

They began to spar lightly, taking quick tapping jabs at each other, but soon they’d both gotten into it, forgetting that it was just a light spar, and began trying to place full force hits on each other. Daryl’s fighting style was rough. It wasn’t as professional or as pretty and fluid as hers was, but he certainly hadn’t had an eight-year dry spell like she had, so she’d say he had the leg up when it came to experience.  It wasn’t until he’d grabbed her by the shirt to keep her in place and tried to land a punch that she, on instinct, grabbed his balled-up fist and threw him over her shoulder with all her might. His grip did not release, however, and she found herself toppling to the ground on top of him.

Her cheek was pressed up against his chest, and she felt her body rise and fall with his stomach as he breathed heavily. She lifted herself up to fully face him and he let out a breathless chuckle as he said

“You fallin’ for me, Princess?”

She found herself laughing too, as they laid in the grass before she finally just hit ‘fuck it’.

Sitting up just a bit, she grabbed his face with both hands and planted one on him.

~

The next few days were like a dream. She’d wake in the morning and go out to the fields behind the house. Stretch until she practically cried out from the strain, but it was worth it because she found that every morning, she could go just a little bit further. She’d do some Tai-Chi as the sun rose, and then trained, either with her fists or with the blades. It’d gotten to the point that on every swing of the shears, she could get that wooshing sound she loved.

She’d do this until Daryl came to get her for breakfast. He’d come five to ten minutes before they really needed to show up so he could drag her behind the old oak where they weren’t visible from the house, and he’d just kiss her against the trunk. Hot, rough, or sweet. Sometimes, all three.

She’d taken to wearing shorts more often because she loved the shiver that ran through her body following the sensation of his calloused hands touching the bare skin of her thighs. Daryl had shown up twenty minutes before breakfast that morning, knowing they’d be too busy to find each other later amidst all the chores.

Rick had decided to set the kid free today and had appointed Daryl to keep an eye on things while he and Shane were gone. She had to admit, she was a little disappointed Rick hadn’t asked her, but she had quite the full agenda anyways, so it worked out better in the long run.

Daryl had her pressed up against the trunk, legs wrapped loosely around his waist. She let out a haggard moan as she felt him lick a stripe diagonally up her neck before placing a kiss behind her ear. He was too focused on what he was doing, and his hands were wandering far too much to keep her supported. She slipped down far enough that they had to part before she fell on her ass, and he placed one last kiss to the corner of her mouth, wrapping his hands around her waist and swaying the two of them back and forth.

“Shit we could have been doin’ this for weeks now.” He breathed into her hair.

“mhmm.” She agreed, pressing her nose against his collarbone. “We are some kind of stupid for not just jumpin’ each other’s bones the first chance we got.”

He chuckled, the vibrations from the noise reverberating through her own body.

“We should probably head t’ breakfast now…” She added as an afterthought.

One of his hands moved from her waist to cup her cheek, and she found herself mesmerized by the eyes of the man in front of her.

“Nah, we still got like five more minutes, I think,” and he kissed her again.

~

Laundry with Carol had become like walking through a minefield since she’d started these impromptu make-out sessions with Daryl. (y/n) never knew when she was going to walk right into being the butt of an explosive joke.

“That’s an interesting bruise, (n/n),” Carol said, poking at the spot behind her ear that was still raw from earlier that morning.

(y/n) laughed off the slight wince by saying “Wow, I must’ve got myself with those blades at some point while trainin’. I’m lucky I’m not bleedin’ out, huh?”

Carol smirked, returning to the shirt she was scrubbing.

“Oh, I’ll bet you were training for something, alright.”

A flush burned it’s way up (y/n)’s face as she stopped to fully look at her dear friend, “You must be stopped.”

She didn’t have time to continue the teasing because screams began to emit from the second floor of the house. Panicked, the women looked at each other.

“You go, (n/n). I’ll take care of this.”

With that, the woman swung herself to her feet, using her momentum to barrel up the porch steps and into the house.

Finally finding herself in Beth’s room, she sees Maggie yelling and Lori trying to pry the door open with a fire poker.

“Who’s in the bathroom?” She called over the noise

“It’s Beth! Beth’s locked herself in there!” Maggie cried

With a confused and concerned look around, (y/n) continued “I thought she went catatonic.”

“Well, now she’s up and about and she’s trying to harm herself,” Lori informed in a ragged yet calm tone.

“Ah, Hell!” (y/n) moved to help Lori with the door, and together they busted it open.

Maggie rushed in, gathering the poor girl in her arms. There was blood everywhere, and Beth was sobbing as she clutched herself, bits of the broken mirror all around her. (y/n) had to turn fully away with a hand over her mouth, too many faces of co-workers flashing through her mind.

“You alright, (n/n)?” Lori asked, rubbing the girl’s back.

(y/n) nodded, taking a few steadying breaths, while still trying not to look at the bathroom or the sobbing teenage girl. “I thought someone was supposed to be watchin’ her.”

“I left her with Andrea.” Maggie sobbed, pulling open a first aid kit to help her sister bind her wounds.

Anger. Hot, simmering anger settled at (y/n)’s core, “Of course that’s what happened.”

~

Maggie marched out of the house with (y/n) and Lori hot on her heels.

They watched, fed up as Andrea jogged up to the front of the steps.

“I heard the yelling is she alright?” Andrea asked

“No thanks to you, where were you?” Maggie spat

Andrea ignored her looking over to (y/n) and Lori “Is she alright.”

“It wasn’t deep enough.” Lori provided, and (y/n) shut her eyes tight, trying not to think about it.

“She’s made her decision. She wants to live.” Andrea breathed triumphantly, way, way, _way_ too pleased with herself.

Maggie stood to block her, and Andrea looked confused.

(y/n) moved, shoving Andrea back away from the porch with all the thinly controlled angry force at her disposal. “Oh, no. I don’t think you need t’ be anywhere near that poor girl. You’ve done quite enough.”

Andrea huffed at that “I’m getting kinda tired of you ragging on me (n/n), you’re not the all-knowing force you think you are. You’re not the poster child for good decisions I mean, you’re sleeping with Daryl, for Christ’s sake.”

(y/n) ignored her, choosing instead to start her second fucking lecture in two weeks with this girl. “Have you considered goin’ into business gettin’ people close to killed? You’re gettin’ pretty good at it.”

“Excuse me?” She huffed again as if baffled that (y/n) would have the gall to criticize her.

“Dale. Daryl. Now Beth. Honestly, woman, you need to come with a caution sign attached to you.”

Andrea laughed, refusing to allow (y/n) to get more than a sentence in this time around.

“She’s fine. She didn’t cut deep enough. It was her decision, and she made it. I don’t see why you feel the need to get involved in everyone’s business. That should be what you should do for a living (y/n), you’ve made yourself into quite the impressive busybody.”

“She didn’t know it wasn’t gonna be deep enough, she’s a child,” (y/n) seethed.

“She’s not a child, she’s grown up enough to make these decisions for herse-”

The resounding smack was loud, and incredibly, _incredibly_ satisfying. All that training came in handy sooner than she'd expected. (y/n) shook the tingles out of her hand as she continued

“She’s seventeen! Of course, she can’t make these decisions! Did you make good choices at that age? I’m goin’ t’ guess not, seein’ as you’re not makin’ ‘em now, either.”

She stormed off, not even sure where she was going to go. She’d probably end up finding something she could punch.

The only pleasure she took from that exchange was watching Andrea’s expression as she clutched her burning cheek.


	13. Dale Deserved Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He just did.

(y/n) did not manage to find anything to punch. She didn’t have the time, as she’d spotted Rick’s car coming down the drive. She waited, hand shielding her eyes as they drove up to her position near the now cleared out barn.

“How’d it go, Sherriff?” She asked, using the nickname she hadn’t used since they’d first met. She idly thought she should use it more. It suited him.

As he emerged from the car, she could see the blood on the side of his face, her expression suddenly shifting

“Not great, (n/n). He knows who Maggie is, which means he could find the farm. We can’t let him go. What if he finds his way back to the others?” He said, tone hard.

(n/n) sighed. “We told you to leave him for the walkers.”

“Yeah, remind me to listen to you more often.” He said, lifting the boy from the trunk of the car and leading him back into the barn.

Shane stepped out, slamming the car door behind him, “Oh, so her you’ll listen to.”

He continued to stomp off and (y/n) watched him go

“What the hell is his deal?”

~

The group waited around the camp, (y/n) incredibly perturbed.

“Rick. I know I said I’d respect your decisions, but that was about… You made Daryl torture that boy? That's not how you get reliable evidence. If someone’s in enough pain they’ll say anythin’ to get it to stop. An’… an’ why Daryl? If you ask me, Shane’s much more suited to the roll…”

Andrea rolled her eyes “Relax, (n/n). Your little boyfriend isn’t going to be scarred for life over this, I’m sure he’s done way worse things in the past.”

(y/n) turned to her, stance ready for a fight, “What exactly are you insinuatin’ about him, Andrea?”

“Nothing that hasn’t already been assumed by everyone else here.” She said gesturing to the group. None of them were agreeing with her outright, but they weren’t standing up to defend Daryl, either.

“Careful. You know what they say ‘bout assumin’ things, but I doubt you’d be able to make an even bigger ass of yourself than you already have.” (y/n) spat.

Rick tore them apart, “That's enough. Look, he’s comin’ back.”

Daryl made his way over from the barn, and once he got there, Rick immediately asked him to relate the message. (y/n) turned to face him, gasped, and rushed forward to inspect his bloodied hand.

“Your boy there’s got a gang. Thirty men.” He said, trying to shake off (y/n)’s grasping hands, but she simply gave him a look insinuating he shouldn’t fight her, and he relented, almost unwillingly, “They got heavy artillery, an’ aren’t looking to make friends. They roll through here; our boys are dead…An’ our women are gonna wish they were.” He said the last part while looking down at (y/n), eyebrows furrowing.

She didn’t react to the news; she simply began to pull him towards the house.

“What'd you do?” Carol asked, spying his hand in both of (y/n)’s

“We had a chat” he snarled, allowing himself to be pulled away by the shorter woman grasping his hand with care.

Once they got inside, she found the first aid kit and began to clean the wounds using a paper towel and rubbing alcohol. She dabbed at his knuckles as he hissed at the sting.

“You’ll be alright, I’ve seen you deal with worse without battin’ an eye.” She told him, a smile gracing her features as she looked up at him.

“Don’t. Not right now.”

Her smile stayed, but her eyebrow began to quirk up in confusion. “Don’t what? What am I doin’ that's so aggravatin’?”

“You’re smilin’ at me.” He growled.

“So that's a crime now?”

“The reason you’re patchin’ me up right now is ‘cuz of that damn look you keep givin’ me, you know.” He told her, wincing again at the sting of the disinfectant.

“You gonna make sense anytime soon, Dixon?”

He looked down at the ground, beginning to collect his thoughts.

“I was doin’ fine. I was in control. I was gettin’ the info we needed, but then… he told this story ‘bout the men in his group. What they do to women… an’ I just. I kept seein’ you behind my eyelids as he was talkin’. You an’ that fuckin’ smile of yours an’ I just… lost it. I just beat on him. I didn’t need to, I was just…”

She wrapped the spare bit of gauze they had around his hand before gently placing a kiss to the injury.

“You were just scared?” she filled in.

“I ain’t scared. I ain’t no wuss.” He stated to the floorboards.

She got up from her position at the dining table beside him to stand in front of him. He looked up slightly, meeting her eyes.

“I never said you were, just that you were scared. Nothin’ is gonna happen to me. Unlike them, our group looks after each other, an’ if I get separated… well, then that's why I get up at the ass-crack of dawn to fight the air.” She joked, getting a hint of a smile from him.

~

(y/n) was in the middle of teaching Carl basic martial arts when Dale came.

Lori sat in the shade watching with a smile on her face. The woman had been concerned for her child and the way this world was changing him. She’d been just as nervous about the fighting lessons as (y/n) had assumed she’d be, so she was hardly surprised when Lori had come to supervise. After a little bit though, Lori saw what the lessons were doing for him, watching him move around and laugh the way a boy his age should be able to, and she began to sit and watch, smiling brightly as her son enjoyed himself for a while.

Dale came over, asking to speak privately with (y/n) and Lori sighed, giving the other woman a look, and shaking her head as she and her son went back towards the house.

Dale handed her a water bottle, and she took it appreciatively. “Daryl warned me you’d be by.” She teased.

The man gave her a fatherly grin, “Yes, I suppose he would,” His smile faded, getting to the point of his requesting her.

“Listen, (n/n), you’re Rick’s friend. He’ll listen to you. you have to tell him not to do this.”

(y/n) took a deep breath, already tired. She’d debated what she would tell Dale all afternoon, and she still didn’t know quite what she was supposed to say. No, she didn’t  _want_  to kill the kid, but….

“Listen, Dale. I have to agree with Rick on this. I don’t like the way most of it was handled, but to be honest, that's ‘cause I thought we should have left him behind to get eaten.” She decided brutal honesty was going to get him to storm off the fastest. She didn’t really want to talk about this, she just wanted it over.

“(n/n), no. That can’t be true. Y-your job is to help people; to save them!” he told her, more appalled then she’d ever seen him.

 She supposed; he’d thought she’d be his saving grace. She felt bad about ruining the ‘good girl’ image he seemed to create of her and Andrea, but he couldn’t afford to think like this, it was going to be the death of him.

“No, Dale. That  _was_  my job. Now, my job is to keep my loved ones safe, an’ I can’t do that with that boy muckin’ about.” She told him.

“That's just it, he’s a  _boy_! He’s not going to do anything, he’s not a threat to us-”

“You don’t  _know_  that, Dale! You weren’t there, you didn’t see...” she paused, backing away from the now concerned looking man as she crossed her arms in front of her, one of them abandoning the fold to rest idly on a shear handle poking out of Carol’s custom holsters on her thighs.

“You didn’t see those men he was runnin’ with. You didn’t see the way they looked at me. The way they…played with us. Like we were rabbits in a trap. They played mind games trying to get us to say the location of our farm, of our people…of our women, an’ I had to come up with this lie on the spot about bein’ pregnant, an’ they didn’t even  _bat an eye_. Whatever they had planned for me after they shot Rick an’ the others--an’ whatever it was, it was gonna be bad…I told them that, an’ they didn’t flinch. It didn’t matter. Nothin’ was gonna stop them. These are the type of people that boy is runnin’ with. They’re the type that assaults women and leaves injured men to die. We don’t know him; he could be just like ‘em. We don’t know anythin’ about him.”

“We know he was willing to give up the information to help us.” Dale offered.

“Yeah, after he was tortured. All that proves is that he’s a coward. Whether he’s a coward that stays with people who do bad things ‘cause he’s too afraid to stand up, or a coward that  _does_  bad things and lies about it to save his own hide is a different matter, an’ if we stop to debate it, it could cost us our lives.” (y/n) argued.

She was getting exasperated.

“Dale, I understand you’re worried about us losin’ our humanity, but if that boy gets lose and brings his boys back here, bein’ humane is not goin’ to be an issue anymore. There are good men, Dale. This group is full of ‘em… and you know, Shane’s here too,” Dale gave her an exasperated look at that, but she kept going, “but we are the exception to the rule. We were the exception to the rule before the damn world ended. The world you’re tryin’ to hold on to is gone. This new one is rough, an’ dirty, an’ even more unfair than the last one was. You need to adapt like the rest of us. Or this world is gonna tear you apart, an’ I’d really hate to see that."

If she’d realized how accurate her closing line was going to be, she probably would have phrased it differently.

~

(y/n) sat under the shade in the new little campsite Daryl had made for himself. He’d pulled away from the others, but she was rather relieved he hadn’t started chasing her off the way he had with Carol. He wasn’t there, but she was waiting for him to get back. She wanted to talk with him about maybe starting to share a tent, and she’d finally struck up the nerve after the talk with Dale about how few good men there were left.

There weren’t many good men, but (y/n) knew she had one of them. She really wanted to make sure he couldn’t slip through her grasp.

Hearing the approaching footsteps, she looked up, seeing a wildly different figure than she’d been expecting.

“Hey, Little Man, what’s up?” She greeted Carl. She’d become quite fond of the boy since spending more time with him.

“Dad says I have to apologize to Carol, but I don’t think I said anything wrong. I just said what I thought.” He said plopping down next to her.

“Alright, well, why come to me? Why not try to explain’ it to Rick, or to your mom?” she asked.

“They aren’t going to listen to my side. They never do. I just thought… maybe you would.”

(y/n) felt slightly honored that this boy she’d only known for about a month, and had only really been speaking to for three or four days felt like he could come to her with his problems, but to be fair, there was probably still a bit of her blood circulating through his system at the moment, if that didn’t make them close, she didn’t know what would.

“Alright, I’ll listen. What’s the issue, Bud?”

He began to explain the situation, about yelling at Carol about Heaven, and how Rick had told him to apologize.

“There’s just no way. If there was a haven, then good people wouldn’t keep coming back to life after they died. It’s stupid to think that.” He said angrily.

(y/n) nodded.

“You know, I don’t really believe in it either. I talk like I do sometimes, but that’s just ‘cause I’m parrotin’ the people ‘round me.”

Carl looked at her, surprised to hear her say that. “And… you're a scientist, right? You’re smart and stuff, so it can’t be real.”

“I’m not sayin’ it is or isn’t. We won’t know for sure ‘till we get there, an’ I don’t know ‘bout you, but I think that’s one mystery I’d like to hold off solvin’ for a while.”

Carl smiled at her slightly dark joke as she continued.

“That’s not what matters. What matters is what people believe. What matters is what gives people comfort. Carol believes in heaven because it helps her deal with the loss of her child thinkin’ she’s happy an’ safe somewhere. Think about it. If you had to choose a place for Sophia to be, would you rather it be in a hole where her body rots away, _or_ would you rather she was happy, safe, an’ well looked after?”

Carl looked down at the ground, kicking at the dirt as he muttered, “Happy.”

(y/n) nodded. “Exactly. You just told Carol that her coping mechanism makes her an idiot, which it doesn’t. It just makes her human. I know it’s rough, and that you’re frustrated because this thing people keep tellin’ you doesn’t make you feel better the way they think it ought to, but they’re just tryin’ their best. Hell, they’re probably tryin’ to reassure themselves more than you. You’ll find your own way to deal, but don’t tear down what works for other people.”

Carl agreed, promising to apologize to Carol before thanking her for listening to him. In the distance, she could see Daryl approaching his camp, and started to send Carl away. Promising to talk with him later. Before she even realized what was happening, the boy was hugging her around the waist, squeezing tight before letting go and walking away.

She was frozen, rather surprised at the sudden gesture the boy had displayed.

“If I’d known you’d bring the boy around, I wouldn’t have let you stay.” He said casually.

She couldn’t tell if he was joking.

“So… you want me to leave then?” she asked, in a mirthful manner, but she was honestly afraid of what his answer would be, given his current tone.

“Nah. I ain’t about t’ chase you away. This group’s goin’ to shit, an’ when it breaks apart, I’d rather you stayed with me than with Rick.”

“You say that like it’s a sure thing. That the group’s goin’ to split.” She told him, watching as he dropped his crossbow near what was left of a stone fireplace.

“Shit, Princess. If even you can’t see it, then the group is even more doomed than I thought.” He scoffed as he began to remove the squirrels from his belt to skin them.

She sat down next to him, leaning on his shoulder as he worked.

“I think the group’ll be just fine. It’s about as functional as any young family. Don’t you think?” she asked.

“I don’t know about _any_ family, but it’s definitely about as functional as mine.”

She didn’t push him to talk about it, though the comment did raise some questions for her. He’d tell her when he was ready, she was sure.

She shook her head, clearing the muddled thoughts from it. She needed to get back on target.

“Would I be intrudin’ terribly if I slept here tonight? It’s just, Carol’s great an’ all, but Andrea… she an’ I ain’t exactly friends as of late, an’ I don’t know how much longer I can sleep in the RV with her.”

Daryl began preparing the second squirrel when he answered, “Is sleep all you were lookin’ for?”

“More like it’s the excuse I’m usin’ to climb into bed with you.” Her answer made him flush, but it certainly didn’t have him saying ‘no’.

~

The meeting had been difficult, Dale spouting off things about humanity and doing what was right. (y/n) had already shared her opinion with Dale, and with Rick. She didn’t feel like repeating herself again. Instead, she stood in the back behind Rick and sighed whenever she heard something that truly brought out the naivete Dale exuded.

He was truly a Locke in Hobbes’s world.

Later on, in the night, she sat back in Daryl’s tent, waiting for the gunshot to sound, and for him to return.

She never heard the shot, but Daryl was back. Quicker than she’d thought he’d be.

“What happened?” she asked quietly as he began to settle in for the night.

He laid down on the makeshift cot in the space, maneuvering so she could curl up at his side. She did so, breathing him in as she pressed herself as close as she could to him.

“Nothin’. Poor kid’s probably pissin’ his pants, but he’s still alive. Carl showed up, wanted to watch. After that, Rick decided he couldn’t do it.”

(y/n) hummed, rubbing her hand up his chest, “Yeah, he’s too good a man for it, I suppose.”

Daryl, grunted and it made her look up at him “What?”

“Nothin’ it’s just. Rick’s too good to do it, but I ain’t. I could do it. I should.” He whispered.

“Maybe you’ll have to. That doesn’t mean you’re not good.” She argued

“Rick had to, an’ he didn’t end up doin’ it. He was too good for it. I’m not like Rick, I ain’t a good man, Princess.”

“No. You know what? You’re right. You’re not.” She could feel his stuttering breath from under her as she said it. So she sat up to look at him, cupping his face in her hand.

 “You’re a great one. You know Rick wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he killed that boy, even though you know it probably needs to be done. You’re willin’ to do the difficult things that are too hard for others to stomach. You’re willin’ to shoulder the burden for others, an’ I think that makes you amazin’” he scoffed, turning from her palm, so she moved her other hand to hold his face in place, “I mean it, Daryl Dixon. I think you are the most spectacular man I’ve ever met.”

She leaned in to kiss him, but before she could, a terrified scream tore its way through the farm.

“What’s that about?” (y/n) asked, suddenly alert.

” I dunno, stay here. I’ll check it out.”

He’d ordered her to stay, so of course, she had to follow him. She kind of wished she’d listened.

Dale deserved so much better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***ATTENTION*** so this is wicked important, the next few chapters are not the end of this fic by any means, I still think i've got a fair bit of story to tell, but these next three chapters in particular are going to me my personal favorite passage. This was the 'weird dream' the fic was inspired by, and it's honestly going to be so fun to write. this next part is why the fic was written in the first place, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.


	14. Hell In A Handbasket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> >:3c

Later that same night, everyone had piled into the living room once again, for a different reason.

Most of the group was either angry or crying. (y/n) just felt numb. She’d lost all her co-workers, her friends. What was one more on the pile?

She knew that wasn’t a good train of thought, but. Damn.

She sat on the couch; Daryl’s arm wrapped protectively around her as Rick paced about in front of them.

“(n/n), please. You get what she’s goin’ through, I’m not askin’ you to become best friends, I just need you to talk with her.”

(y/n) was still moaning and groaning over it, though she knew eventually she would cave. Rick was her leader. He was giving her an order. She usually followed those when they were reasonable, and despite how much she hated to admit it, this one made sense.

“Fine, fine. But let’s get one thing straight: I’m not appologizin’, I don’t pity her, I’m doin’ it because you told me to. That’s it.” She proceeded to get up from the couch and march her way out to the porch, where Andrea was currently pretending she wasn’t bawling like a baby.

“That’s all I can ask,” He told her as she passed him.

She stood out there for a bit, not saying a word as she leaned on the railing next to the sniffling blonde.

“You come out here to tell me this is my fault? That Dale died because I’m some sort of demon or something?” Andrea accused.

“Were you aware that my parents were in Atlanta when everythin’ went down?” She asked bluntly.

Andrea shook her head, absolutely dumbfounded as to why she was being told something so off topic.

“I was workin’ late. I didn’t see the voice message until it was way too late. My dad had called, sayin’ that the refugee center wasn’t lettin’ them in, but that he knew it would be fine ‘cause his daughter was workin’ on the cure. He said he wished I’d pick up, but that he knew I was busy. That he loved me, an’… an’ then, there was screamin’ in the background, an’ he was cut off. I learned later that the army’d bombed the city.”

Andrea wasn’t talking back for once, which (y/n) found refreshing.

“Jenner, when he heard the news, forced me to take a sick day. Made me hot chocolate. He an’ his wife were so good to me. Over the next few days, his assistant… well, he needed a new one, an’ he offered me the job even though there were like, six people more qualified than me left in the facility. He gave it to me because he knew I needed it. It was motivation. An excuse to keep goin’. His death hit me harder than I thought it was goin’ to.”

Andrea finally said something. It was quiet, but (y/n) heard her loud and clear, “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because Rick told me to talk to you, but also because I’ve been in your shoes. I didn’t make the same dumbass choices you did, but I’ve been where you are. The pain’s never really gonna go away, but you know that already. It’ll just blend into the background. Every once in a while, you’ll remember it’s there, and then it’s painfully obvious. Sooner or later it’ll mute again, though. I was lucky I had this group when Jenner died. Y’all helped me, an’ took care of me when I needed it. This group’ll be there for you, too. Rick, Glen, Lori if you quit pushin’ her away…”

“But not you?” She said with an amused bluntness to her voice.

“No.” (y/n) said, though she had a grin a mile long, “No, I still hate your guts.”

Andrea chuckled, and they shoved at each other lightly. “right back atcha.”

~

Though that night was terrifying, the next was even more of a shit storm.

The group paced about, prepared for anything and everything. Rick, Glen, Daryl, and Shane had gone off into the woods after Randall had ‘escaped’, but (y/n) was just not buying it.

“I feel like I’m repeatin’ myself, but doesn’t his escape just seem too… perfect?” She asked the people in the room around her.

Hershel was already getting ready to sleep, setting up the couch as a makeshift bed. “Sitting around worrying about it won’t fix matters, just go to sleep. Have faith that the others will have a handle on it.”

(y/n) shook her head, “No way I’m gettin’ to sleep until everyone’s back safe. Especially not with Shane out there with ‘em.”

T-Dog turned to look at her, “What do you mean?”

She gave a frustrated sigh, “Y’all believe what you need to, to sleep at night, and in the process, you blind yourself to the truth right in front of you. Shane destroys everythin’ that gets in the way. The walkers in the barn, that kid,” She permeated the statement by pointing outside where the guys had left almost forty minutes ago, “An’ soon, Rick’ll be on that list if he ain’t already.”

The room was quiet after she’d spoken. She shook her head.

“If you excuse me, I’m goin’ to go out on the porch to fret a bit ‘till Daryl gets back.” With that, she strapped her weapons to her person, donned her jacket, and headed off into the forebodingly cool evening.

~

“Rick an’ Shane ain’t back? We heard a shot.” Daryl stated walking back into the house.

(y/n) hurried in behind him and Glen

“No, not yet. Maybe they found Randall.” Lori answered.

“No, we found him, he’s a walker.” He reported.

(y/n) paled at that, Rick was out there with Shane, a shot was fired, and it wasn’t at Randall. Fuck. Usually being right was something she celebrated but this, she’d hoped so desperately that she’d been wrong. Who knows, maybe she still was.

“Did you find the walker that bit him?” Hershel asked

“Weird thing was, he wasn't bitten. His neck was broken.”

(y/n)’s whole body went rigid. Shit, this was one hell of a way for them to find out. That’s not going to be fun later.

“So he fought back.” Patricia supplied

“Thing is, he an’ Shane’s tracks was right on top of each other, an’ he ain’t no tracker. They were together.” Daryl supplied, confirming every one of (y/n)’s worst suspicions.

She gave a nervous half-laugh as she threw up her hands in a ‘whatdaya know’ sort of way before covering her mouth with the palm of her hand.

Lori rushed over, practically at her wit's end as she pulled (y/n) into her, speaking over her head to Daryl “Would you please get back out there and find Rick so we can figure out what’s goin’ on?”

“You got it.”

He turned to leave, not bothering to glance at (n/n) in the heat of the moment, though later, he wished he had. Wished he’d memorized her face because this was the last time he’d be seeing her for a while.

~

The Herd was fully on them now, and Lori was in full panic mode, not finding Carl anywhere in the house.

“He’s not in the cellar,” Carol said, “Or the Attic.” (y/n) added, in a panic.

“If he went after his daddy, he would have gone that way.” Lori thought aloud trying to move towards the woods, but Carol held her back.

“Running there will just draw the walkers to ‘em we gotta leave. If he makes it out, he’s going to need his momma.”

She ushered Lori to one of the cars, (y/n) not far behind. Everyone’s rushing and running, Patricia is caught by a few, and Lori had to physically drag Beth away, shoving her into the truck with T-Dog as Andrea ran out to help the others.

Carol and (y/n) found themselves cornered, Carol screamed and panicked, beginning to sob as the walkers approached. (y/n) stood in front of her, preparing to fight when Andrea approached, shooting a path through the fray for them, only to fall as one of them toppled over her.

“No! Andrea!” (y/n) cried, trying to run to the woman before Carol gripped her, yanking her through the cleared path still crying.

They paused by the road, watching as the truck peeled out.

“Oh my god…” Carol whimpered watching them leave.

“It’s alright Carol, we’re fine. There are still cars we can take, we just gotta get through this mess an’ find one. Here. Take my pistol, an’ cover me.”

Yanking the pistol out of the back of her shorts, she pressed it into Carol’s shaking hands, before moving to her shears.

Before she could, Carol screamed again. (y/n) had just enough time to push the other woman out of the way before the walker slammed into her, knocking her to the ground. The thing’s teeth dug into her shoulder, and (y/n) panicked.

“Carol, shoot it! Get it off me, get it off! Please! Please!” She cried out in panic as she struggled.

Carol shook her head, pointing the pistol briefly at the walker before turning, and running in the opposite direction of the house.


	15. From Chaos Comes Clarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Reader, struggling on the ground with a walker biting into her shoulder: I'm just warming up, you pathetic worm!

The walker bit harder, and she had no time to even think about whether or not she was already dead, she’d worry about that when she had to. Thinking, she moved her hand from the shears and reached behind the small of her back. The blades on her thighs were too long to get enough power into the strike at this angle, but Daryl’s knife… the one he’d given her that first day on the farm…

She unsheathed it, and grabbed the walker by the hair, plunging the knife as far into the skull as she could. When she felt it’s bite slack, she shoved it off, inspecting the damage.

_Oh god, oh god oh god…_

She was afraid to look, but she knew she had to. Looking down, she realized with crazed elation, that she’d been wearing her jacket. Around her shoulder, indented into the leather was this thing’s whole bite chart, but it didn’t appear to have torn the material. She felt the numbness that followed the release of intense pressure on her shoulder, but no sting. Though she could have just been in shock. Unzipping the jacket, she found herself shoving her hand under the fabric of her clothes, feeling around her shoulder for the warm wetness associated with blood, or the indentation of teeth marks, but felt nothing but dry smooth skin. With a released breath, she fell back to the ground.

As she looked at the upside-down world behind her, she spied the many rotting legs of a group of walkers ambling towards her. She began to panic, deciding she was going to give T-Dog a big kiss if she ever saw him again, remembering their conversation that day she’d patched him up.

_“If you smell like 'em, they won't know you're alive. works better with guts, but 'parently just covering yourself with 'em works.”_

 Reaching again, she pulled the dead walker back on top of her, pulling the dagger out of its head just in time for the group to descend.

A few of them bent down to smell at her, and one of them near her face seemed to be gearing up to bite at her cheek. With shaky movements, she dipped her fingers into the wound at the walker’s head and began to smear blood over her face and neck, trying to ignore the stench and the upsetting coldness to the liquid as she avoided her eyes, nose, and mouth. That one seemed to move on, but the others remained, still trying to figure out where their meal went. With nothing left to lose, (y/n) began to use the knife in her hand to cut and stab at the torso above her, feeling herself shiver as the blood began to pour out of the wounds and congeal in a pool around her.

It was upsetting, and it made her want to scream out, but she bit down on her tongue. Tasting the warm red iron as her whole form shuttered.

Not being able to smell her anymore, the rest of the walkers moved on, and she shoved the weight off her, holding her hands out to her sides to keep from touching the damp material on her body. She no longer heard Hershel’s shotgun, and she could briefly see the taillights of the final car peeling out.

Shots were still being fired, and she spied a blonde figure shooting into the crowd of walkers before picking up the gun bag, and running to the woods, in the opposite direction of the cars.

(y/n) wanted to call out to her, but she knew it would only distract her, and lead to unwanted attention. She was on her own.

Assessing the damage, (y/n) noticed her shorts were completely soaked, the denim stained the color of the walker’s dark ichor. Her shirt, where it had been exposed from the open jacket, was also drenched and sticking to her skin, but the jacket itself seemed to be wicking the blood away. That wasn’t going to work if she was going to get out of here. Making the executive decision, she removed it with weak limbs, barely able to pull at the fabric through the anxiety building up.

“Okay, okay…okay. Okay…Okay.” She whispered to herself again and again in a voice shattered by strife, dipping her hands into the wounds of the walker beside her over and over. Rubbing herself down, covering every bit of exposed skin and fabric. When she couldn’t reach her back, she turned to look at the puddle she’d been laying in, pouting and letting out a few disgusted cries before laying back down, and rolling a bit in the bloody grass.

When she felt she was covered, she took a few steadying breaths as she focused her attention on the stretch of woods she was aiming for, pausing only briefly to stare at her discarded coat before deciding to pick it up to tie it around her waist.

(y/n) finally unsheathed the broken shears on her thighs.

Staring out at the sea of walkers between her and freedom, she counted to ten, and by the time she got there, her panicked mind had stopped screaming. Her brain had shut down that part of her as it went into survival mode.

Moving forward, she plunged the blade into the first one in front of her, tearing through the wound to lodge itself in the creature next to it as she forcibly cut a path through the horde.

Blood and entrails spewed all over her, but she barely registered anymore, only considering it more coverage on her cloak of invisibility. She was Carrie at the prom, and she was owning the shit out of being covered in blood.

_This would be one helluva time to develop telekinesis._

Some part of her still in the shell left behind to deal with the trauma thought as she mowed down monster after monster.

One of them got caught in her hair, and she simply cut its hand off before stabbing it through the eye. She could still feel the hand tugging in her hair for a yard or two more before it finally fell out, flinging itself into the crowd of undead as she’d spun around to slice at one of them.

When she’d finally made it to the edge of the woods she turned around to assess the damage. Everything was just. Gone. The barn was on fire, she could briefly spy the front of the RV poking out from behind the flames, the house was overrun, and all the cars had been taken. A significant line of walkers had been cut down, and she could actually see the path she took through them with the way they’d fallen.

With a shaky breath, hands clutching her slippery, bloody knees, she vomited into the dirt.


	16. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm really beginning to just put bullshit in these summaries, so like, don't expect these things to be relavent to the content of the chapter anymore. it's *clap* *clap* meme review from here on out, babes.

Daryl stared out at the farm, watching the figures meander about in the illumination of the barn, burning brightly.

Hearing a woman scream, he drove his bike towards the sound. Carol came running through the gates, crying hard with about a dozen walkers close on her heels.

In her hands, was (y/n)’s pistol. He felt like he might be sick.

“Carol, get on. Where’s Rick? The Others? Did (n/n) make it?” he asked, voice sounding calm, but his heart was hammering a mile a minute.

“I. Was. With her, s-she pushed me away, a walker fell… it was biting her I had to go, she was screaming for me, but I just…”

In a panic, he hopped from the bike, running to the edge of the fence, calling out her name, hoping to hear anything in response. “Princess! (n/n), please!” after a pause, Carol tugging on him, begging him to just go, he desperately called her by something he hadn’t ever before. Her full, first name. “(y/n)!”

“She’s gone, Daryl, she’s gone. Please let’s go. We have to go.” She sobbed, clutching his arm as the walkers began to move closer, tearing at the fencing.

With a growl, kicking a sizable rock across the dirt path, he got back on the bike, pausing to help Carol onto the back before he took off, Walkers just barely grazing the back of Carol's shirt as they kicked up the dirt behind them.

~

They’d made it. The whole group, or what was left of it, had found each other back at the highway, and the rejoice was short lived when Carl looked around, stopping to look at Daryl.

“Where’s (n/n)?” he asked, accusatorily. Like he already knew the answer.

Carol shook her head, saying she was gone.

“Do you know for sure?” Rick asked, devastation dripping from his tone. He’d just lost two of his closest friends within the span of 12 hours, and the loss was heavy on the group’s leader.

At the shake of Carol’s head, as she began to cry once again, Lori rushed over to console the other woman, tears stinging how own eyes at the loss of their people.

“We need to go back for ‘er. Her an Andrea.” Daryl stated

“No,” Rick demanded. Tone demanding silence from the others, “No, it’s overrun. We can’t afford to go back. We can’t afford to split up, either. If they made it out, they would have found their way back to us by now. We gotta…”

He looked down at the ground, shuffling his feet.

“We gotta move on.”

Daryl squeezed his eyes shut, turning away from the others. Shit. If his brother were here, he’d be giving him so much shit for crying over a woman he hadn’t even slept with yet. Just another loss to add to the pile. Just another reason not to let anyone else in.

As the motorcade moved on, he kicked at the ground, driving his bike into motion as he followed Rick and the others, trying to shove the memories of (y/n) away, but they just wouldn’t leave him. Even in death, that woman was a pain in the ass.

~

(y/n) stumbled through the woods, tired, hungry, thirsty, the acidic taste of bile still rolling around in her mouth from the night prior as she maneuvered her way through the dark. For the past ten to twenty minutes she’d been following the light and smoke from further on in the forest, and now she was almost at the spot in the trees where it was coming from.

She could hear voices, one voice, in particular, sounding incredibly familiar, but she didn’t dare hope.

She also couldn’t be bothered to consider how stumbling into the campsite covered in dried and flaking walker blood was going to go. She just knew she was tired and hungry, out of options, and her shorts were still rather damp. Chafing her legs while not providing her much protection from the elements. Nights were getting colder; fall was approaching way to quick for her to keep going like this for much longer.

She tripped suddenly, and the noise attracted the group by the fire’s attention.

“What was that?” came one voice,

“It could be a rat or a possum,” came the familiar one.

“Or a walker… It came from over that way,” another said.

“The last thing we need is for everyone to go running off in the dark. We don’t have the vehicles, no one’s traveling on foot.” Said a tired, bitter disembodied voice beyond the light of the campfire she was slowly stumbling towards.

More arguing ensued from the other voices, before the bitter voice spoke up again, “I’m keeping this group alive. I’ve been doing that all along, no matter what. I didn’t ask for this, I killed my best friend for you people, for Christ’s sake!”

(y/n) paused in her movements. That was Rick speaking. No doubt about it, it was Rick! She’d found them! She bit back an excited yelp as she trudged forward into the clearing.

~

 “Maybe you people are better off without me. Go ahead. I say there’s a place out there for us, but maybe that’s just another pipe dream. Maybe I’m foolin’ myself. Why don’t you go find out yourself? Send me a postcard. Go on. You can do better, let’s see how far you get. Let’s get one thing straight: If you’re stayin’, then this isn’t a democracy anymore. Say whatever you want about (n/n) and how we kept the truth about the virus from you, but she understood that better than anyone. She understood how this world works, now.”

As Rick’s speech ended, several people gasped staring off behind him, and he turned around as a dark figure moved towards them. Their skin was caked in something that shone black in the light of the fire, and their hair seemed matted and unkempt.

At first, the group thought it was a walker, moving to take it out, Daryl calling the shot as his own.

At the last second before firing his bolt, he spotted something in the figure’s grip that had him moving his crossbow off the figure, sending the arrow into the tree behind them.

The figure froze, unmoving after feeling the breeze of the projectile brush past them. In their hands were (y/n)’s blades. No doubt about it. No one else would be crazy enough to use broken shears as a weapon.

“That’s (n/n)…” Daryl whispered, sure of his assertion as he began to really assess the shape of the figure. “Princess!”

He called out, moving towards the figure but Carol held him back, shouting despite not knowing if there were walkers all about.

“No! No... It’s not her. Even if it is, she was bit. She’s bit! She’s gone, Daryl.” Her voice was firm about (n/n) now, having had a day to settle with the news of her being dead piled with the fact that she’d known they were all infected and chose to hide it from them.

…

(y/n) heard Carol’s cries and began to get fed up. Angry. These people, her family, they’d left her. They’d left her for dead without even bothering to check to make sure she was dying first.

She started off quiet,

“I’m not bit.” She growled.

“It spoke. Whoever it is, they’re alive.”

“What’d they say?”

“I’m not bit.” She said louder, more crazed. “I’m not bit, I’m. not. Bit!” She was screaming, fed up with all the talking. It was her turn now.

“…(n/n)? No. But, I saw you. It was biting right into you, you were screaming.” Carol said, with dawning horror.

“It bit the jacket!” (y/n) screeched, untying the leather from around her waist and tossing it to the ground, angry tears starting to slink down her face, washing the flecks of blood away in small streaks.

“You all left me for dead! You left me! You said you wouldn’t leave me behind, but you did! You fuckin’ did! All of you!” She cried hysterically. Not caring about the noise she made.

Rick, for his part, seemed to have snapped out of whatever mood he was in for a fraction of a second, choosing instead to move towards his suffering friend. He was trying, in any way he could, to console her.

“(n/n)… I’m so sorr-- I can’t even begin. I’m so sorry, we-”

 

“Don’t.” She said coldly. She held her hands up, in a gesture that demanded silence, palms open, her broken shears held point up in the air between her thumbs and the rest of her palm. “I don’t want to hear it.”

The anger drained from her whole figure as the people around her began to really take her in. The blood that covered her head to toe, her matted hair, the tare in her shirt, her increasingly degrading posture as the rest of her booted back up, finally safe. She could finally comprehend the narrowness of her escape, the things she had to do…

She closed up. Shoulders lifting to her ears as she shrunk down, lip quivering, she lowered her arms making sure to keep space between them and her damp jeans and crusted over t-shirt. Not wanting to feel the unpleasantness against more of her skin than she had to.

She finally whimpered out. Shaky, tired, pitiful, “I’d just really like…to get clean now, please.”

She broke down, dropping her blades into the leaves on the ground as she began to sob loudly, letting out all the grief and suffering, recounting the experience in her mind over and over again now that she was able to process the horror of what she’d just went through.

She felt arms wrap around her and she screamed, struggling and beating at the figure, trying to push their face away, keeping their teeth from her, but she heard the person speak, felt the vibrations of life in the chest pressed against her, and the warm, strong arms wrapping themselves around her and she gradually began to relax again, settling into the hold. Allowing whomever it was that had embraced her to lift her into their arms and carry her up the hill to the reservoir as she continued to openly sob, wailing out with all the agony she could muster up.

The rest of the survivors sat about the fire, even quieter than they’d been before Rick’s speech, listening to the pitiful cries with guilty and horrified expressions.

~

She’d calmed down now, or at the very least, she’d stopped crying. Everything about her seemed so little to him right now. She’d never been very tall, to begin with, but seeing her sit quietly, not a single smart thing to say as he cooed at her, washing the blood from her face with rags from a t-shirt they’d found in the back of one of the cars… It scared him. Not a single shred of the woman he knew was staring back at him.

“There ya are, Princess. Knew you were in there somewhere under all that gunk.” He whispered, wiping the last of the caked-on walker guts from her cheeks.

“Daryl…” She whispered quietly.

He hummed to let her know he was listening as she began to tear up again, trying not to completely break down as she struggled with the stiff shirt on her back.

“Can you help…?”

He nodded quietly, beginning to help her remove the ruined items of clothing from her body, easing her out of her shirt, then her shorts, stopping briefly when he gripped her thigh and she winced. He immediately removed his hands, thinking he’d triggered some memory, but when he looked down at where his hand had just been, he could see that the sensitive parts on the inside of her thighs were now red, rubbed raw from walking in wet jeans through the woods.

“Jesus…” was all he could whisper at her, as he helped ease her out of the rest of her clothes. He turned around once she was completely bare, listening as she eased herself into the water, and started to rub at the grime.

He’d just left her there. He knew he should have gone back to look. He shouldn’t have left that night; he should have gone to look for her. He never should have left her side in the first-

“-ryl… Daryl?” She was calling again, her voice still so quiet and weak as if one strong gust of wind would make her disintegrate into nothing.

“What is it, Princess?” He asked, still not facing her to try and preserve her dignity. She’d already lost so much, she couldn’t afford to lose that, too.

“The… the stuff in my hair. It’s not goin’ to come out. It’s too matted. We’re goin’ to have to cut it off.” She whispered into the night.

She was so matter-of-fact, as if even now that the danger was passed, she couldn’t afford to be anything less than methodical and robotic. It hurt him to hear her speak with such a tone. Not a single joke to be heard from her.

“Yeah, alright.” He said, spying the knife he’d given her attached to the now ruined shorts.

It was a shame they seemed to be so unsalvageable, he’d really liked those shorts. They’d made her ass look incredible… He shook his thoughts off. She was right next to him, naked and vulnerable in the river after going through heavy trama, and here he was thinking about her butt. It didn’t matter what she said, he was a bad man.

White knuckles drew the knife from its sheath, and he realized that this knife was also covered in a fine layer of walker fluid. She must have used it to cut open the walker she covered herself with.

The thought made him shiver on her behalf.

Rinsing it off in the water beside her, he kneeled on the shore as she turned her back to him. He tried his best to salvage as much as he could, but it was no use. He ended up having to cut it close to her scalp, leaving choppy waves of short-cropped hair behind. The front of her hair, the part framing her face was relatively ‘clean’ for the most part, and so he elected to leave it alone. Leaving her with long tendrils in the front, and nothing in the back to cover her neck.

“…Thanks.” She said, emotionless, rubbing at the now exposed skin on her back.

“How’s she doing?” Lori asked softly as she approached.

“Better than could be expected. She’s shaken, but she’ll be fine once she’s clean an’ clothed. I think.” Daryl whispered, feeling as (y/n)’s cold, wet hand emerges from the water to grasp his lightly. It was the first sort of affectionate gesture she’d displayed since they’d come up there. He grips it back, tight.

The group had spent time at the highway to try and find clothes for the colder months before they left, and she held a hodge podge of women’s clothes that they’d found, guessing at what might fit (y/n).

A pair of dark jeans, a black sports bra, and a pair of striped pink panties were all they could spare in her relative size. “This is all we got for her right now, I couldn’t find a shirt. Any chance she could wash the one she has enough to… salvage it?” Lori asked, handing over the clothes to Daryl.

The man looked over at the girl in the water as if asking her if she’d be alright with that. She looked back, a lost expression on her face as she shook her head lightly.

“…Nah, I guess not. I think I should have an extra shirt in the bag on my bike for ‘er. Can ya get it?”

Lori nodded briefly, turning to leave.  Once she had, Daryl saw (y/n) begin to emerge from the water, and he turned around once again, leaving the clean clothes on a nearby rock for her to put on.

When Lori had returned, she looked to (y/n), a delicate smile on her face as she handed over the plaid shirt. She looked it over thoroughly:

The sleeves had been torn off, there were holes, one on each side of the lower left abdomen, and surrounding the holes was a faded maroon stain. This was the shirt Daryl had been wearing when he’d come back injured that day. That felt like so long ago now…

She slipped it over her head, breathing in the scent in the fabric. In the old world, it might have been considered not overly pleasant, but now it just smelled like him. She clutched it to her form for a bit before realizing that the reason she was clutching it so tight was mere meters away, still standing with his back to her.

She wrapped her arms around his torso from behind, and he grabbed at her hands, undoing her gesture, and realigning her grip on him now that he was fully facing her.

“y’alright?” he whispered into the top of her head, hand coming up to play in the now short strands.

“No.” she whispered, “But keep huggin’ me, an’ maybe I’ll get there.”

“Yeah, I can do that.” He assured.

~

When they’d gotten to the base of the hill again, the group looked up at her. She definitely seemed to be doing better than she had been, but that’s not really a high bar to meet. She looked clean and presentable. And she had the ghost of a smile on her face as she clutched herself to Daryl’s side.

Carl had been the one to pick up her blades and had refused to let anyone else touch them or bring them to her, claiming he’d be the one to do it, and he did. Rushing to her the second he saw her emerge from the reservoir, holding them out to her with a beaming smile.

She supposed doing all that training with him had really endeared her to the boy. She took the weapons gratefully, tucking them back into their holsters before kneeling down and letting him hug her. It was quick, and soon he was running back to his mom, but she was touched by the gesture, nonetheless.

Carol approached as well, holding out the leather jacket (y/n) had tossed when she’d first arrived. It was now clean; Carol having washed it in the runoff dripping from the rocks at the edge of the camp.

(y/n) took the gesture for what it was, an apology. Carols sheepish look was unnecessary. (y/n) understood. The woman had been scared, and there had been so much going on. She took the jacket from the woman’s hands gently, slinging it over her shoulders gingerly.

Carol sat back down, allowing Daryl to guide (y/n) over to the base of a tree near the fire. She was already asleep by the time he moved to cuddle her to his chest.


	17. Cold Months

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader made it back to the group, but can she be the same person going forward?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** Attention***  
> Hello, All.  
> I just wanted to give you the heads up that I won't be posting for a bit. Finals are just around the corner, and I need to focus all my time into my studies, and won't be able to post regularly for a while.  
> I am not abandoning this work,  
> I am not stuck on where to take it,  
> I simply need to focus on my education, as it's my top priority.  
> The term ends May 3rd, so I'll be back in a few weeks. 
> 
> I appreciate the feedback, and all the comments I've received, I never expected this piece to be so well regarded by those who read it.Thank you so much for reading, for your support, and now for your understanding. I'll see you all on May 4th!
> 
> -Sashimi

In the morning, things were different. She’d been awake half the night, memories from the recent ordeal plaguing her.

Breakfast was slim pickings, and she found that the group was gearing to pack up and look for a nearby gas station. They’d been talking amongst themselves, but when they’d noticed she was awake, most of the group turned to look at her.

“…What?” she asked.

Daryl growled from beside her.

“You’re really all gonna jump on her first thing in the mornin’?”

That sounded ominous, and (y/n) wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“We know about the virus, (n/n). We know we’re all infected. We just want to know… Why?”

She blinked a bit.

“We… don’t know why, we were tryin’ to figure it out, but then the lab exploded, remember?” she said bluntly.

Lori sighed, “Not why are we all infected, why didn’t you say anything if you knew?”

Rick butted in then, telling Lori he already said that they didn’t want to start a panic.

“Well, I’d just like to hear it from her, is all.” Lori defended as she turned on the other girl again, “Is there anything else you’d like to share? What else do you know?”

(y/n) got agitated at the accusatory tone of the question.

“No, you know the basics of everythin’ I know, now. It’s a sleeper virus that’s activated once the brain stem shuts down, either from death or from the active virus found in the saliva of the infected.”

“You say it’s sleepin’, is there a chance it could wake up from any other reason?” T-Dog asked

(y/n) shrugged, as she turned to look at him “I dunno, maybe. Mutation is always a possibility.”

“Well, how do we know if it’s mutated? Will there be signs? Side effects?” T-Dog pressed

(y/n) glared as the line of questioning got farther and farther under her skin.

“Gee, dunno, let me pull the pocket lab outta my jeans!” She barked, “It’s the end of the damn world, and I’m fresh outta science equipment. We won’t know until the symptoms show themselves, an’ even then, the symptoms could be from somethin’ completely unrelated to the virus, we have no way to know for sure out here, so why bother worryin’ about it?”

Lori sighed, caressing the slight bump over her stomach. “Do you at least, have some idea of what the possible side effects might be?”

“Well, it’s a disease that affects the brain, and then subsequently the rest of the body, so: hallucinations, mood swings, off-color cravin’s, nausea, paranoia, short an’ long-term memory loss, early onset Alzheimer’s, loss of motor skills, internal bleedin’, skin rot, organ failure, ruptured kidneys, bloody urination and defecation, total nervous system shut down… I could go on; do you want me to?”

In the silence that followed, she nodded, keeping the cool and collected demeanor she’d had as she’d listed the hypothetical symptoms, “That’s what I thought. You glad you know, now?”

Her tone had been filled with so much cold contempt to discourage the others from speaking with her the rest of the day. She didn’t seem to care or allow the dark mood she was in to disperse.

~

(y/n) never really returned to normal. She stopped cowering and her voice returned to a stronger tone, but she was never quite as lively. The mirth never returned. She didn’t crack jokes or lightly sass the others as much as she used to, and when she did, it was usually only with Daryl. And she never shared her opinion anymore unless it was asked for. She was strictly factual in her statements. Smiling was rare, her expressions always stony and her voice strong, but monotonous. She was still her: still loyal to Rick, still training with Carl, still got up every morning to stretch and train with her blades, still affectionate with her family.

She was still her; she was just…muted.

She never spoke about the nightmares she’d wake from in the middle of the night, and no one ever asked her about them. She appreciated that.

(y/n) yawned lightly as she leaned against the minivan. She hadn’t been able to sleep the night before, having taken first watch, and then had only gotten an hour or two of sleep in between the nightmares of gnashing teeth and blood-soaked skin before she had to get up to start her routine. Beth, sitting in the passenger seat, rummaged through her bag to pull out a 5-Hour Energy she’d been saving. She held it out the car window to (y/n), but she simply shook her head, gently pushing the girl’s hand back into the car.

Before too long, Rick appeared in the doorway of the house they’d just cleared, ushering her to bring them in, and Beth got out of the car alongside her father and sister.

(y/n) tried to help the very pregnant Lori out of the backseat, but the woman swatted away her help, easing herself down, and trying to carry a bag. (y/n) pulled it gently from her hands, with a deadpan look, wordlessly telling the woman not to fight with her on it as they entered the house.

As they did, Daryl came down the stairs, plucking the feathers off an owl he must have found in the house. She gripped his bicep, pulling him down to kiss the corner of his lips before mouthing, “Ah, the language of love.”

He gave her a confused look, prompting her to mouth something else, with a completely straight face as she poked at the bird in his hands: “poultry.”

He groaned quietly. Her lips pursed for a fraction of a second, trying not to break out in a grin.

The joke had been bad, and he’d pretended to be annoyed, but really, he loved when she’d joke a bit, and peak out from her newly formed shell. Especially because she’d do it only for him.

The group sat around, not saying anything in their new base for the evening. They’d been running from this herd for a little over eight months now, the winter had slowed them down, but spring was on its way and now they couldn’t really stay in one place longer than a night or two.

Carl had found peanut butter, which he’d promptly given to his mother, as well as two cans of dog food. He began to open one up with a can opener to eat it, and everyone looked around at each other warily.

Rick stood up, refusing to let his son eat from the can as he tossed it roughly into the fireplace. He’d also changed since the farm; more aggressive. Assertive.

(y/n) stood too, pulling out the swiss army knife she’d found on a walker a few weeks ago and grabbed at the other can, opening it up with the multi-tool.

Rick gave her a glare, but she met it, unflinching. She’d eat it, and she didn’t really care what Rick thought about her doing so. Nothing really phased her anymore.

She caught movement behind him, narrowing her eyes as she glanced out the window to see a few walkers begin to gather on the lawn. She placed the half-cut-open can on the coffee table before gathering some of the bags. The others followed her lead, packing up their things before moving quickly back to the cars.

~

They paused a little down the road to reassess. Glen and Maggie pulled out the map while Carl and (y/n) stood on either side of the caravan watching for danger.

She listened idly to the chatter about where to go next, ending with the discussion to circle back to an area they’d already been.

_Fuckin’ Greensville again._

(y/n) thought with a shake of her head. She was about to follow a few of the group members to the river to clean off some of her clothes when she heard Daryl say something to Rick.

 “While the others are washin’ their panties, why don’t you an’ I go for a hunt? That owl didn’t exactly hit the spot.”

She turned, walking towards the men, asking Daryl to follow her a second before he left.

Being far enough away that the others couldn’t hear their conversation was as merciful as she was feeling up to that day.

“You may be goin’ on a hunt, but your ‘panties’ are stayin’ right here, Dixon.” She told him.

“’scuse me?”

“You heard me. You’ve been wearin’ the same thing for over three weeks, I’m willin’ to bet they could use a wash. Either take ‘em off, or I’m throwin’ you in that river myself. You _an’_ your undies that stand up on their own.”

Despite the delivery of her message, her tone and the way she squared up beside him made him realize she wasn’t joking, and there was no room to argue. After staring her down incredulously for a beat, he walked off to the woods behind a tree and came back with his boxers in his hands looking humiliated.

She grabbed them, a smirk ghosting her features as she twirled them in the air before whipping them over her shoulder and turned towards the river with the others.

“Thank you,” she called to him.

As he and Ricked walked away, he could briefly hear T-Dog wolf whistle. Rick found himself grinning, as he replayed her swagger towards the river in his mind. He’d seen a flash of his friend’s old self. It was just for a moment, but it proved it was still there. That she was slowly but surely healing.

“Well, that was impressive,” Carol said hesitantly from beside her at the edge of the river.

She’d been walking on eggshells around the newly guarded woman, as if afraid she would bite her head off at the slightest provocation despite (y/n)’s constant assurances that she wasn’t angry with her.

“Yeah, well, You’re only seein’ the finished product. I’ve been houndin’ him for weeks.” She complained dryly, scrubbing the garments in her hands to try and get them some semblance of washed, “If I don’t make a deal of it, nothin’ about him would ever be clean. I get the feelin’ he wasn’t privy to regular bathin’ even before the world shit itself. Nasty Man.”

Maggie grinned, elbowing her “Yeah, but you love ‘im.”

(y/n) gave an affirmative hum, not taking her eyes off the clothing in her hands.

“Hey, that reminds me, you mentioned your birthday came an’ went at some point,” Maggie said, turning to rummage through her bag.

“I did say that. Hard to tell when exactly that was, but…” she paused, seeing the box Maggie offered up to her.

“Happy birthday.” The girl smirked.

She and Glen had made it their mission to try and get (y/n) to laugh at something. Most of the group had danced around her, a little off-put by the woman’s sudden cold shift. Glen and Maggie, however, had made a game of it after studying the group’s other functional couple and realizing (y/n)’s sense of humor hadn’t totally vanished into thin air.

“I know there ain’t much privacy these days, but ya never know. Maybe you’ll find a moment somewhere along the way…” Maggie continued, watching (y/n)’s expression shift minutely as she reached to grab the box.

Carol looked between (y/n)’s face and the gift with a curious expression as she stared down at the box of condoms Maggie had just gifted her.

“You’ll have to do better than that. I’m keepin’ these, though.”

She returned to washing her clothes, as Maggie grumbled. Disappointed, but not discouraged.

When the boys came back, Rick was grinning. Something that hadn’t happened since before the farm fell, and it had everyone else feeling a little chipper.

He began to relay the prison they’d found, and how they could take it, make it a safe place to settle like he’d been talking about. Daryl, for his part, made a b-line for the makeshift clothesline, violently grabbing for his boxers and giving (y/n) the stink eye as Rick gave the others his latest rallying speech.

~

The prison, something that at one point, probably seemed suffocating and inescapable, now only seemed like an impenetrable fortress, and as they’d made their way between the fences, (y/n) found herself already playing ‘house’ as it were.

_That could be a garden, I could sanction off that side of the yard for trainin’, maybe find somethin’ to make practice dummies… we could set up watch in those two towers, make little can telephones to hang between an’ communicate…_

When they got to the entrance to the lawn, Rick started formulating a plan, pointing off most people towards the towers for shooting. “(n/n), you’re our best with hand to hand. I’m going to need you to run to the gate with me.”

This was true, she had gotten rather good at taking down walkers swiftly and without hesitation. Every time she saw one these days her body screamed at her to kill it before it could get her, resulting in a quick and brutal slaughter. That was only with one or two.

This was significantly more than that.

She felt herself start to shut down as panic settled into her skin. Shrinking a little, she backed away from the fence gate, as well as the many walkers piling up on either side of the fences.

Gripping her shoulder, Rick bent down a little to look her in the eye. “You’ll be fine. You’re tough, the others will be coverin’ us, and I’ll be right beside you the whole time. You won’t be left behind.”

With a shuttering breath, (y/n) nodded, stepping up with Rick, and gripping the blades at her thighs tightly.

Lori paused before opening the gate for them. “You really sure you want to do this, (n/n)?” She asked quietly.

“Of course, I don’t want to.” (y/n) answered factually, “but Rick gave an order, an’ I’m gonna follow it.” Her voice wavered slightly, her stone exterior cracking slightly under the pressure.

With a nod, Lori opened the gate and they rushed forward.

Rick shot at the ones in their way, and (y/n) watched for those coming up behind them, pistol in one hand, shear in the other.

At one point a bullet was fired at the ground in front of Rick, causing her to bump into him when he paused, but otherwise, they made it to the gate without much issue.

When they arrived, Rick began to shut the door, and (y/n) had to really pull her weight keeping the walkers behind them from piling up.

She kept her breath as even as she could as she slashed through the undead crowding around them. At one point she felt one brush her shoulder, but before she could turn around an arrow flew past her, burying itself in the walker head about a hairsbreadth from the base of her neck.

She whimpered, but couldn’t afford to dwell on it past the fact that she suddenly felt so naked, wishing it weren’t too warm to be wearing her precious leather jacket currently sitting in the saddle bag of Daryl’s bike.

Rick finally got the gate shut and began to pull (y/n) towards the guard outpost near the entrance. Once the two of them got inside, she was able to take a breath as she heard the others begin to fire relentlessly outside the door.

“We did it.” Rick breathed.

“We did it.” (y/n) parroted before breaking into a grin.

The two hugged, laughing as the gunfire began to die down.

As they pulled away, (y/n) sighed, starting to put the mask of indifference back into place as the bullets ceased to sound outside, “Don’t tell Maggie an’ Glen that I laughed at this, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Rick beamed down at his dear friend, “Your secret’s safe with me.”

~

That night, they sat in the newly cleared lawn by a fire big enough to provide steady warmth. The Greene sisters sang, and all together, it was one of the more pleasant evenings in a while.

Looking around for Daryl, (y/n) spotted him on top of the truck with Carol and got up to make her way over.

She managed to catch the tail end of their conversation when she approached.

“I’ll go down first.”

“Even better.” Carol teased casually.

“Stop.”

(y/n) furrowed her brow as she spoke out into the darkness, tone as casually dry as ever. “What the hell are you two talkin’ about?”

Carol froze, suddenly spotting her before giving a bashful grin “I’m just teasin’ Daryl a bit, nothing serious.”

It was obvious by how sheepish Carol seemed to be as well as how red the tips of Daryl’s ears were what exactly he was being teased over. (y/n) looked between them for a beat before stating:

“…We’d make one helluva threesome.”

There was silence, and then Carol laughed heartily, bending over to grip her stomach with the force of it, and both Daryl and (y/n) had to grip her tightly to make sure she didn’t slip and fall when she got down from the truck as she was still laughing when they made their way back to the others.

“You made a joke,” Carol said, amazement lacing her tone once she’d finally calmed down.

“Yes, I’ve been known to do that on occasion.”

“Not for a while, you haven’t.”

The conversation ended as they sat down with the others. (y/n) leaned back against Daryl, eyes closed as she listened to the Greenes sing in the space, being completely safe for the first time in a good long while. She felt lighter than air.


	18. Jailhouse Rock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I wouldn't be back until May, but I'm awful and like to procrastinate on my schoolwork.

The groups clearing of the cell-block was incredibly successful. They’d hit a small roadblock when a few walkers in swat gear showed up, but once Maggie discovered how to get under their gear, those ones were taken out swiftly as well. They had a home. For the first time in a very long while, they had beds to sleep in and sturdy walls to keep out the elements.

“Home sweet home” (n/n) muttered, looking around the trashed cell-block. They’d need to sweep. And dust. And scrub the walker blood from the walls--oh, and the floor, too, now that they’ve dropped two of them from the balcony.

The beds were a welcome sight, though they would need to be checked for bed bugs, lice, any number of things could have taken residence in the mattresses.

Taking in a long breath, (y/n) coughed. They’d definitely need to figure out how to crack open some of these windows. The air was unbearably stale.

To her comment, Rick replied “For the time being”

“It’s secure?”

“This cell-block is. In the morning, we’ll find the cafeteria and the infirmary.”

Beth seemed a little reluctant to sleep in the cells, but not as reluctant as Daryl, who flat out refused to sleep in a cage.

“I’ll take the perch.” He declared, making his way to a cell to grab a mattress.

“Mind if I join you up there?” (y/n) asked, shielding her eyes from the sun shining through the windows as she watched him make his way down the catwalk.

“Be offended if ya didn’t, Princess.”

~

The night was quiet as she laid curled up next to Daryl on the mattress he’d dragged into the open space of the landing. He played quietly with her hair, commenting on how much it’d grown out since that night after the farm.

“I was thinkin’ of cuttin’ it again. The way you cut it that night? It’s harder to grab, an’ it’s less work. Less heavy. Summer’s on it’s way, it’d be less hot, too.” She whispered quietly to him.

“In the monin’, ‘fore we leave to clear the prison I can cut it for ya again.”

She hummed in appreciation, as he rubbed up and down her back, making her squirm a bit when he ran over sensitive areas of skin. After a quiet moment, she gave a silent chuckle.

“What’re ya thinkin’ about?” he asked, small grin on his face as he watched her hide her smile in his chest

“Just that, we were gonna sleep together the first night we met, but here we are, nine months later an’ we still haven’t done anythin’ past heavy pettin’.”

“yeah, well we haven’t exactly had the time for it. Or the privacy.” He responded.

“…We got the time now.” (y/n) stated as she lifted herself up to look at him.

“That guard tower out in the yard’s pretty private. I gotta set a keys...”

“Maggie gave me a whole box a condoms the other day…”

“You think we’d wake anyone tryin’ t’ sneak a mattress outta here an’ ‘cross the pavement?” He asked finally. Already sitting up and gathering their bags and blankets from the surrounding area.

“Only one way to know for sure.” (y/n) answered with a dumb grin to match the one on her partner’s face.

They snuck down the stairs as quiet as they could, (y/n) giggling a little as she watched him heave the mattress over his head to carry it down the stairs.

They paused a bit as they noticed Rick slumped over on the floor, quietly trying not to wake the man as they tiptoed passed, (y/n) only stopped a second to drape one of their blankets over her friend and kiss his forehead briefly before she caught up with Daryl. They crept out the door, snickering like teens out past their curfew.

~

The night air was cool on their bare skin. (y/n) absentmindedly stroked Daryl’s back as she thought of how it’d been so very long since she’d had a _fake_ orgasm, let alone a real one.

She sighed, content with her current state of bliss when she felt her fingers brush a raised bump on his back. Lifting her head as far as she could, she noticed several raised and nasty scars lining Daryl’s skin. She traced each one delicately and felt her partner tense up as she did so.

“…When you said your family was dysfunctional, I thought you meant like they argued a lot.” She whispered, continuing to trace the agitated lines, “or, like your brother was an ass or somethin’. The others make it sound like he was.”

Daryl huffed, moving out of her grip and on to his back so the scarring was no longer visible.

“Dad used to beat on Merle a lot. An’ when Merle was gone, either ‘cuz he was in Juvie or ‘cuz he left me behind, he’d beat on me. ‘s nothin’. Don’t need pity.” He said, attempting to duck the hand she was trying to thread through his hair.

“I don’t pity you.  I mean, if you came out of it bein’ a shithead, then I probably would, but I think you turned out just fine.”  She consoled, trying to pull him back to his previous position, though he was fighting her.

“Merle always said I was too weak. Too dumb. No one’d ever accept me but him, an’ I believed him. Still do, sometimes.” He growled, still not letting her move him. He refused to let his scars be so exposed and visible, now that they were the center of her attention.

“Merle sounds like a shit.” (y/n) supplied, giving up on turning him back over in favor of straddling him. “Kinda glad I never got to meet ‘im.”

His hands came up to hold her hips as she bent to kiss at his neck.

“He woulda liked you. liked your attitude. Woulda probably told you to go for someone better than me.” He spat, rubbing his hands up and down her sides.

“What, like him?” she snorted as she felt Daryl sit up underneath her.

“Yeah, probably.”

She cupped his face, bending down to place a series of sweet kisses to his lips

“Why would you choose to stay with someone like that? Why’d you go back to that roof to look for ‘im?”

“He’s my brother. My blood.” He stated simply, like that was all the reason he needed as he gripped her hips tightly

“Baby, that means nothin’. You don’t owe anythin’ to your blood if they treat you like shit. Family are the people who take care of you, who are there when you need ‘em, not some verbally abusive low-life bent-to-hell on takin’ you down with ‘im.” She whispered softly, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck to caress the scars on his back once more, “Merle Dixon was your kin, but he wasn’t your brother.”

He buried his face into her neck, clearly trying to escape the conversation, but at least he wasn’t trying to hide his back from her anymore.

She took his face in her hands, kissing a line from his cheek to his lips. She grinned into the kiss, feeling his arms wrap around her as he began to lower her back onto the mattress.

~

(y/n) awoke the next morning slightly sore, but completely satisfied. Daryl’s arm lay sprawled across her stomach as he slept on his belly a little to her left. In the moonlight, the scars on his back had been mere bumps. Now in the light of the morning, she could see the severity. The aggravated, jagged scarring, making it apparent that these wounds had been re-opened multiple times over before they were finally healed enough to scar. She traced them like she had the night before and watched as the tension built back up in her partner’s shoulders, before he sighed, and rolled over.

“you gonna do that every time you see my back?”

She shrugged, “What can I say, I love a man with battle scars.” She was making light of it, but her smile was warm with no hint of a tease, trying to convey her message.

_I don’t think they’re ugly. They helped shape you into who you are. I think they’re beautiful. I think you’re beautiful._

He rolled his eyes before sitting up, the defined muscles of his arms a welcome sight in the early morning sun.

“’cmon, we gotta get dressed ‘fore Rick comes lookin’ for us. You still wanted that haircut, right?”

She sat up alongside him, Daryl’s sarape, which they’d used as a blanket, slipping from her form. As it fell, she began feeling a bit more playful.

“If I knew you were gonna be all business in the mornin’ I would’ve asked for more pleasure last night.”

He had his back to her, but she could tell he was flushed from the color on the tips of his ears. He tossed her sleeveless sweatshirt at her face, as he answered:

“You’re really comin’ outta that shell of yours since we found this place.”

She plucked the clothing from her face before hurrying up, and finding her bra, slipping it on before returning to the sweatshirt that’d been tossed at her. “Well, look around. We got walls, an’ fences, an’ _beds_. I can finally let my guard down.”

He grinned, handing her the pair of jeans she’d been wearing the night before.

“well whatever the reason is, it’s good to see.” He dug his hand into her hair to bring her into a kiss before pulling back, and tugging on the strands in his grip lightly, “I’m gonna miss pullin’ on this.”

Honestly, she was going to miss him pulling on her hair, too. But the truth was, so long as he could pull on it, walkers could, too.

~

The group surrounded a table, preparing weapons and ammo for the expedition while Daryl stood behind (y/n), cutting at her hair with a knife.

Carol shook her head from the doorway as she watched, “You know, If you’d asked, I could have given you a haircut that was much prettier than anything Daryl could do. I used to cut Sophia’s hair all the time.”

“Thanks, Carol, but I like what Daryl did with it the last time it was cut.” She stated simply as she felt the knife dig into the strands behind her head.

With a nod, Carol dropped the subject and instead called for Hershel to come look over Lori.

“Everything alright?” Rick asked

Carol nodded and said a quick, “She’s fine” before disappearing back into the cells with Hershel.

The others looked around, avoiding Rick’s gaze. The man hadn’t seemed to consider the risks of the pregnancy yet, but everyone else definitely had.

She’d heard that Lori had began to distance herself from Rick after learning about what happened to Shane, but now it seemed like Rick was the one trying to put distance between them. He was so focused on making this prison a safe place for her and the baby that he hardly spent time with her. He’d brush her off, leaving Carl and the rest of us to look after her.

(y/n) was terrified for Lori, and Lori was terrified for herself.

She was brought out of her thoughts by the clatter of the knife being placed on the table. Daryl began to brush the lingering locks off her shoulders, and blew on her neck, making the strands of hair that had stuck to her person after they were cut fly down onto the floor.

Just like it had been eight months ago, her hair was cropped, short and choppy at the back of her head and longer in the front where it framed her face. She felt Daryl take a lock in the back between his fingers, before it promptly fell from his grasp, too short to hold on to.

“Much harder to grab now, thanks.” She said, shaking out her new hairstyle.

He came around to the front, curling some of the longer hair around his finger.

“You ever consider what yer gonna do if one of ‘em grabs you this way?” he asked before he grabbed the frame of her hairstyle on both sides and pulled her into a kiss.

She used her palm to lift his head before grabbing the knife from the table behind her and poking him under the chin lightly with the tip. He backed up, hands in the air, playful grin on his face before Rick coughed falsely.

“We ready to go?” he asked like a reprimanding parent.

The two nodded, trying to suppress dumb grins as they followed Rick farther into the catacombs of the prison.

~

Maggie came up beside her as they stalked through the dark halls.

“Where’d you sneak off to last night?” She asked with a creeping grin, barely visible in the dark.

“The guard tower out in the yard,” (y/n) answered, slyly.

The two let out a string girlish, conspiratorial chuckles.

“Damn, I wish Glen and I had thought of that.” She answered wistfully as they continued farther down the dark hall, “What _did_ you two do up there? You look like cats who caught a canary.” A smirk lining her face at (y/n)’s new bashful grin.

They had to stop their conversation abruptly as the telltale groan of walkers began to emerge from the passages. (y/n)’s cold shell hardened over her as she began to heighten her guard, clumping with the others and keeping an eye on their backline as Maggie made her way up near her father.

As they turned the corner a large clump of walkers was spotted and began to make its way towards the group. Rick ordered them to back up, and the group turned to make a stand farther back when they ran into a larger group of walkers back the way they came. In a panic, the group split.

(y/n) found herself with Rick Daryl and T-Dog and Hershel, regrouping and waiting for the walkers to pass before moving back in search of Glen and Maggie. Shears out, and sticking close to Daryl’s side, (y/n) crept down the hall with the others.

Hershel drifted from the group, thinking he’d heard his daughter, and the rest of the group came running back when they heard him start to yell.

Turning back down the dark corner, they found Hershel on the ground, a walker biting into his leg with gusto.

Maggie was in shambles, crying hysterically as Rick and Glen lifted her father from the ground and began dragging him to safety, (y/n) grabbed at Maggie, clutching the girl to her side as she guided her behind the others, hurrying once walkers began to circle, attracted to the screams bouncing off the halls.

They came to a door, handcuffed shut, and Daryl bashed it open with the back of his flashlight letting the others burst in as he and (y/n) shut the doors, leaning into them to keep out the walkers. T-Dog searched for something to block the doors, deciding to use the fire poker he’d been using as a weapon, lodging the thing between the door handles.

Once the doors were sealed, Rick called for (y/n) asking her to look at the wound. He pulled back Hershel’s pant leg, the sight of the wound pulling a gasp from (y/n) and a broken sob from Maggie.

(y/n) shushed the girl, “Maggie, ‘s alright. The virus travels slow through the bloodstream. If we cut it off now, we can save ‘im. Someone gimme their belt.”

“You don’t gotta belt? (n/n), you haven’t eaten anythin’ sustainable in weeks, no wonder ya have to keep pullin’ up yer pants.” Daryl called over his shoulder, still keeping an eye on the doors.

“Belts are for NARCs.” She tossed out, as Rick plopped his belt into her waiting palm.

Maggie cried into Glen’s shoulder as (y/n) wrapped and secured the belt above Hershel’s knee.

Rick huffed in disbelief as he muttered, “First joke I hear you make in eight months, and I walk right into it.”

“Guys, is now really the time?” Glen called, rubbing Maggie’s shoulders as she sobbed.

Rick shook his head, instructing Maggie and Glen to hold Hershel down as he picked up his hatchet, and came down, hacking through the leg in a few powerful chops.

The older man screamed, before promptly passing out from the pain, and in the following quiet the others began to realize they weren’t alone. In the next room over, peering at the group through the windows of the connecting wall were five prisoners, staring on in horror at the scene the group had just performed for them.

Daryl turned, aiming his crossbow at them, standing protectively in front of (y/n) as she pulled out her shears.

“Holy Shit.” One of them whispered as the light from Daryl’s flashlight shone on him.

“Who the hell are you?” Daryl asked roughly,

“Who the hell are _you_?” another asked back with the light hint of a subdued Spanish accent.

“He’s bleedin’ out, guys we gotta get ‘im back to the cellblock.” Rick said hurriedly, trying to suppress the wound with the severed part of Hershel’s pants.

The prisoners began to ease their way into the room, trying to get a look at the man on the ground.

“What happened to him?” one of them asked, trying to pull a small pistol from the front of his pants.

“He got bit” Daryl supplied.

“Bit?”

T-Dog pulled out his gun and pointed it at the prisoner as he spied the firearm in the man’s grip.

The prisoner made no hesitation in pointing his gun right back, swinging the barrel back and forth between him and Daryl.

“Easy now, woa.” Daryl said, stepping even further in front of (y/n), who had since bent into a fighting stance, blades gripped with white knuckles.

Glen moved passed the men to get a rolling cart to carry Hershel back on as the prisoners continued to question them.

“Who the hell are you people?”

“They don’t look like no rescue team.”

(y/n) gave a cynical laugh at that, “Hear that? He said, ‘rescue team.’”

Speaking up only got the man in front to point his tiny pistol at her instead.

“Hey, don’t you point that thing at her.” Daryl growled at the same time that Rick said, “If you’re waiting for a rescue team, don’t.”

Hershel was heaved onto the cart, and T-Dog moved his weapon from the door, leading to a few walkers to burst into the room. He and (y/n) made short work of them as the group made their way back to C block, following Glen’s spray-painted arrows all the way back.

“Rick, they’re followin’ us.”

The group looked behind them to see that the prisoners were, in fact, not far behind.

They rushed into C-block, with only Daryl, T-Dog and (y/n) staying behind to meet up with the prisoners, barring them from getting to the rest of the group.

~

Daryl rested his foot on the bench of the table, aiming his crossbow at the door to the rest of the prison. T-dog stood beside the gate to C-Block, waiting patiently, and (y/n) hid around a corner, lying in wait.

The men emerged, and Daryl warned them not to enter farther into the room.

“Block C, Cell 4. That’s mine, _gringo_. Let me in.”

“Today’s your lucky day, fellas. You’ve been pardoned by the state of Georgia. You’re free to go.” Daryl snarled.

(y/n) bit down on her lip, trying not to compromise her position by laughing.

“What do you got goin’ on in there?” Their leader asked

“Ain’t none of your concern.”

At Daryl’s answer the man pulled his gun out again, pointing it at Daryl, “Don’t you tell me what’s my concern.”

(y/n) chose then to make herself known, taking quick steps to the man’s side to disarm him, kicking the pistol across the room towards T-Dog as she twisted the arm in her grip to make the man bend to fall on his knees.

“Don’t you point that thing at him.” She said, parroting what Daryl had said earlier in a honeyed tone.

The man turned a harsh glare at her, clearly enraged as he looked her up and down, quietly seething as one of the other men raised a metal pipe to her, trying to get her to flinch and back away.

She didn’t.

She instead chose to meet the armed man with a steady, dead eyed stare that she’d mastered in her eight months on the road. She bent the arm in her grip further, in retaliation to the threat.

She’d been ruthless and cold to keep her family safe then, and she’d be ruthless and cold to keep them safe now.

The man in her grip let out an angry yelp, “Back up, back away from her!”

They followed his order, and she released him, backing up quickly to sit on the tabletop next to Daryl.

“Crazy puta.” The man muttered as he stood from the ground, moving his arm to shake out the ebbing pain.

T-Dog had picked up the pistol, checked the clip, and then placed it on the table next to (y/n). She watched as the man she’d taken it from eyed it over before shifting his gaze to her.

She crossed one leg over the other, and leaned forward, eyes narrowing. Daring him to try and take it back.

“They got a point, man. If they’re sayin’ we can go, we should go. I gotta check on my old lady.” One of the other prisoners said.

“A bunch of civilians breaking in to a prison they got no business being in, got me thinking there ain’t no place for us _to_ go.”

So he wasn’t overconfident to the point of stupidity. That could be dangerous. (y/n) slid her gaze across the group, eyeing them all over trying to discern as much as she could from these men in as little time as she could.

“Why don’t you go find out?”

“We ain’t leaving.”

“You ain’t comin’ in, either.” T-Dog said, gun drawn.

The prisoner edged towards the table and his gun, but (y/n) just slid across the table, blocking his way while Daryl kept his crossbow pointed at the center of the guy’s skull.

“It’s my house, my rules, I go where I damn well please.”

Some deep, dark, part of (y/n) that’d settled into the pit of her being practically purred at this man’s hubris. He wasn’t a threat to her; he wasn’t even a threat to Carl or Beth. He’d had shelter and food since the beginning. He hadn’t been out there like they have. He hadn’t had to fight for his life like they have. If he’d seen her that night at the camp, covered in blood and howling like a lunatic, he’d have shit himself good and proper.

She felt like a cat stalking a mouse as she watched him try and make himself big, and by the look in Daryl’s eye, she knew she wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

“Everyone relax, there’s no need for this.” Rick placated as he came back around the corner.

The leader of the prisoners eyed where Rick had just emerged from as he spoke up once again, “How many of you are in there?”

“Too many for you to handle.” Rick responded in a hard tone.

“You guys rob a bank or somethin’? Why didn’t you take ‘im to a hospital?” The man questioned

(y/n) shared a look with Daryl, trying hard not to let it show on her face as she realized how little these people actually knew about what happened outside. She shared a glance with Rick as well before he asked:

“How long have you been trapped in that cafeteria?”

The leader looked around, as if he was starting to realize they knew something he didn’t, “Going on like, ten months.”

“A riot broke out, never seen anything like it.” The biggest guy said

“Attica on speed, man.” Said the one with the mustache.

“Ever heard of guys goin’ cannibal,” the one with the pipe chimed in, “dying, coming back to life? Crazy.”

“One guard locked us in the cafeteria, threw me this piece, said to sit tight and that’d he’d be right back.” The leader finished.

“Oh, Honey.” (y/n) whispered, looking at him and his men with new eyes.

When she looked at these prisoners knowing what she knew now, that they were clueless and lost… she just wanted to take care of them. They were defenseless and scared, and they had no idea how to look after themselves outside these walls. She wanted to take pity on them.

That didn’t mean she was willing to let them into the cellblock, though.

She triggered the safety on the confiscated gun before walking over and handing it back to the man she’d taken it from.

“You’re goin’ t’ need this.”

He took it, giving her a bewildered look, scanning her expression of pity with clueless suspicion, aiming the pistol at her as she backed up to her previous position.

 “What do you mean?” he asked, almost innocently.

“There’s no government, no hospitals, no police…it’s all gone.” Rick informed with a hint of melancholy.

“For real?”

“What about my moms?”

“My kids… My old lady. You got a cell phone we can use to call ‘em or somethin’?” the prisoners all spoke in tandem.

“You boys don’t get it. ’s all gone.” (y/n) said shaking her head, from beside her Daryl lowered his crossbow.

“No phones, no computers.” Rick specified, “far as we can tell, at least half the population’s been wiped out. probably more.”

“Ain’t no way.” They’re leader huffed, calling Rick’s ‘bluff’.

The man shrugged, pointing to the door leading to the yard, “See for yourself.”


	19. Top Dogs and Scared Kittens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas bites off more than he can chew.

The men walked about the blacktop, still littered with walker corpses, as they mused about being outside.

“You never said how you got in here in the first place.” The short man with the pipe asked, looking back at Rick.

“We cut a hole in the fence over by that guard tower.” Daryl supplied, (y/n) could see a slight pink tint to his ears, and she immediately knew he was thinking about what exactly they’d been doing in that tower almost twelve hours ago.

She bumped him affectionately as she passed, and he subtly brushed her upper arm.

The two tried to be subtle in their affections, not really wanting the prisoners to catch on to something they think they could use as an advantage, but their leader, Thomas, caught the interaction out of the corner of his eye.

“That easy, huh?” the short one asked again.

(y/n) snorted. Easy, he says. Compared to living on the road during the coldest months of the year, sure. Maybe. But to this guy, it would have been nigh impossible.

“So, what is this, like a disease?” The big guy asked.

“Yeah, and we’re all infected.”

“What do you mean ‘we’re infected’? Like, AIDS ‘er somethin’?”

“(n/n) here, her full name is Dr. (y/n) (l/n). She was working for the CDC as a Virologist before it shut down, she can answer your questions ‘bout that.” Rick said nodding to (y/n) who stood at attention, awaiting inquiries.

“Even the CDC gave up, huh?” The man with the mustache said shaking his head.

“More like the generators ran out of power an’ the whole place exploded seconds after I managed to escape.” She informed.

At that the man gulped and nodded dumbly, looking anywhere but at her.

“As for your inquiry regardin’ infection, the disease travels through the air an’ attaches itself to the brain. It activates once the brain stem shuts down, either ‘cuz the person died, or ‘cuz the person’s bloodstream encountered the active form of the virus.”

“t’ say it in English, If I was t’ kill you, shoot an arrow through your chest, you’d come back as one a these things.” Daryl said from beside her, pointing to the copious bodies littering the asphalt, “It’s gonna happen to all of us.”

The prisoners fell into silence at that, before their leader spoke up again, “Ain’t no way that Robin Hood an’ his _chava_ over there took down all these freaks. Must be 50 bodies out here,” He paused to look at Rick before asking, “Where’d you come from?”

“Atlanta.”

“Where you headed?”

“Nowhere.” (y/n) answered coolly, earning her a glance from the man doing his best to intimidate Rick.

He was trying to be top dog, but all (y/n) could see was a puppy that needed to be neutered. The man nodded as if she’d asked him for a favor and he was relenting. As if he was in control. It was almost adorable. Almost.

“I guess you could take that spot over there by the river.” He said confidently.

“We’re using that space for crops,” Rick informed, having spent half an hour with (n/n) the other day sharing ideas about renovating the space, they’d agreed that they’d designate that area to horticulture.

“We’ll help you move your gear out.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

He wasn’t budging, and neither was Rick. It was like watching Rick’s energy stick its hand on the forehead of Thomas’s energy as it tries to throw punches.

“This is our prison; we were here first.” He said confidently.

Not at all sounding like a petulant child.

 “What, locked in a broom closet? We took it, set you free, it’s ours. We spilled blood.” Rick spat back harshly.

“We’re moving back in.”

“You’ll have to get your own.”

“It _is_ mine, I still got personal artifacts in there! That’s about at mine as it gets!” Thomas said, pulling out his pistol and aiming it at Rick’s head.

Everyone else jumped into a stance, holding up weapons and gearing for a standoff.

(y/n) found herself unsheathing her blades and moving forward, passed the extended gun so she could hold one of her shears to the ring leader’s throat.

He gulped, looking scared for the first time since he watched them chop off an old man’s leg as he stared into the leveled gaze of the woman ready to slice his throat open like she would open a letter, but he still didn’t back down.

Quickly regaining his composure, he turned his gaze to one of his pals, by the sound of their voice, it was the one with the mustache, though (n/n) didn’t dare turn her head to confirm.

“Maybe let’s try to make this work out so everybody wins.”

Thomas looked back down at the woman who was just beginning to lower her blade, “I don’t see that happening.”

“Neither do I” Rick agreed.

“We aren’t going back to that cafeteria.”

“There _are_ other cell blocks.”

“You could leave.” Daryl offered; crossbow still pointed at the prisoner’s head as he yanked (n/n) back behind him by her belt loop, “Try your luck out on the road.”

Silence followed his statement before the leader looked around and said to his group:

“If these three pussies and the _chiquita_ can do all this, the least we can do is take out another cell block.”

(y/n) huffed at that. By themselves? Good luck.

“With what?” The biggest one asked

“Atlanta here will spot us some real weapons. Won’t you, boss?”

Rick, seeing an opportunity, took it. He began to hammer out a deal to help the prisoners clear a cell block in exchange for half the food in the cafeteria. According to Thomas, there wasn’t much left, but even if it was just enough to feed Lori, Carl, and Beth for the evening, it was worth making the effort.

After the agreement was made, Rick made one final comment.

“Let’s get one thing clear: If we see you out here anywhere near our people, If I so much as even catch a whiff of your sent, I will kill you.”

The prisoner masked the intimidation he felt by biting back a gruff:

“Deal.”

~

(y/n) sat on a counter in the kitchen, Pistol in hand, one leg swinging over the edge as she watched the guys in her group heft the ‘little bit of food’ that was left out of the pantry. She’d offered to keep an eye on the prisoners, and that’s what she was doing.

When she’d stated her intentions, T-Dog had looked around at the prisoners before whispering to her, “(n/n), you sure? I mean, these guys have been stuck in here for more than ten months. They haven’t seen a woman in god knows how long. You sure you wanna be alone in here with them?”

Hearing this made Daryl bristle. He immediately made his way to her side, crossbow removed from behind his back as he eyed the rest of the men in the room. “He’s right, Princess. Don’t want you gettin’ hurt.

(y/n) rolled her eyes “Honestly, boys, I’m fine. Daryl, if you wanna be the big tough man, why don’t you go over an’ lift one of those heavy crates back to the cell block. I’m a big girl.”

Reluctantly, he nodded before he and T-Dog turned to help the others with the food.

Thomas stayed in the pantry, trying to regulate what he thought was fair to take, but no one really seemed to be listening to him. All the other prisoners formed a sort of circle around (y/n), staring at her like she was the most interesting thing on the planet.

Oh. Now she knew what T-Dog was talking about.

“So, (n/n),” Mustache started off, trying to make conversation.

“Dr. (l/n).” She corrected with a sharp tone. Her title didn’t help her much out in the wastes, but in here, she’d play any card of authority she could.

“R-right. Dr. (l/n)--Ma’am…” The man amended, “How does a scientist working for the CDC end up taking over a prison with a cop, a civilian, and a redneck?”

The other men listened to the conversation with varying levels of curiosity, and (y/n) sighed before she began to explain their situation.

“Well, as I said, the CDC was rigged to explode once it ran outta juice. I was trapped in there by my boss, who thought it’d be better to go out with the buildin’ than try an’ survive. Rick helped me escape. Took me in. He an’ his group became my family. At some point, we lost a little girl an’ ended up stayin’ on a farm while we looked for her. She… didn’t make it, an’ the farm was swarmed by a whole herd a walkers. We had to leave. After that, we wandered. For the whole winter. Rick’s wife got more an’ more pregnant, and then we found this place. We needed a place where his wife can give birth an’ raise a baby in safety, an’ this prison provided.”

The next part of her statement, she said louder, making sure Thomas could hear her from his spot in the pantry, “By takin’ me in, Rick saved my life a thousand times over. I’d do anythin’ for him, an’ I’d do anythin’ for my family. _Anythin’_.”

He glanced over his shoulder at her and met her dark look with one of understanding, but he didn’t seem even remotely threatened by her.

(y/n) snarled internally. He was really getting on her last nerve.

The last of the food was divvied up, and Rick motioned for the group to move into the seating area to discuss the plan.  On her way out, someone caught (y/n)’s arm.

Thomas yanked her back behind the wall out of sight, keeping his grip on her arm, “Listen up. You can stand around acting tough all you want, but don’t try and pretend you’re a threat to me. The only reason you’re kept around is ‘cuz the redneck thinks you’re a good fuck. Don’t deny it, I see the way he looks at you. You’re a scared kitten trying to make herself as big as she can, but I could bat you into the wall with one arm if I wanted, _puta_. Remember that.”

He tried to make a point by squeezing her arm harder, but instead of crying out like he thought she would, she gripped his thumb, and bent it back hard, forcing him to release his grip and bend down to release the pressure. When he tried gripping her hair to try and yank her off, he realized he couldn’t get a solid grip in the short strands at her head. Instead, she grabbed his other thumb and bent it back as well, forcing him all the way onto his knees.

“Well, you’re not top dog. You’re just a fruit fly buzzin’ ‘round mine and Rick’s heads, an’ it’s gettin’ damn annoyin’.” She whispered, close to his face, “I've seen things that would turn the hairs on your ballsack white, an' I've done things that-If you'd been witness to 'em- would make you shit yourself at the mere sight of me. If you ever put a hand on me again, I will swat you outta the air so quick you’ll get whiplash.”

Roughly releasing her grip on his thumbs, she turned to join the others around a cafeteria table. Not even sparing a glance at the man glaring daggers at her from across the table.

Melee weapons were laid down across the table, and Thomas picked up a crowbar and held it out casually.

“Why do I need this, when I got _this_?” he asked holding up his small gun confidently, trying to pretend he didn’t just get his ass handed to him on a silver platter by the short virologist in the room for the third time in two hours.

“you don’t fire guns.” Daryl explained, “Not unless your back’s against the wall. Noise attracts ‘em… It really riles ‘em up.” He practically purred out the last part.

(y/n) felt herself tingle from head to toe. Hearing him talk like that, all gravelly, condescending and vaguely threatening… it really riled _her_ up.

“We’ll go in two by two.” Rick explained, “Daryl will run point with T. I’ll bring up the rear with (n/n).”

(y/n) made a noise of disapproval.

“I’ll take the front with T.” She stated.

Rick raised his eyebrows at her, and she shrugged.

“(n/n), didn’t you once say you’d do as I asked regardless of your personal opinions?”

“An’ didn’t you say a day ‘er two later to remind you to listen to me more? You said it yourself, I’m the best with hand-to-hand. Daryl’s got a ranged weapon; it only makes sense.”

After a hefty sigh, Rick nodded but pleaded with her to be careful. Before he began to explain to the others how to perform the sweep.

“Ain’t gotta tell us how to take out a man.” Thomas goaded lightly.

This made (y/n) think of something that made her snort. Then chuckle, then straight up chortle.

“What? What is it? What’s funny?” Thomas asked, voice raising with his irritation.

“Oh, It’s nothin’, really…” (n/n) said, attempting to calm back down, “It’s just that… with the way you show-boat, I’m willin’ to bet the only thing smaller than that pea-shooter a yours is your penis.”

Daryl snorted, and many of the others, prisoners included, grinned and smirked.

“Just remember to go for the brain.” Rick reminded, attempting to get the group back on target.

~

They did not, however, remember to go for the brain.

 (y/n), Rick, T-Dog, and Daryl found themselves watching on, marginally unimpressed, as the prisoners beat and stabbed at a couple of walkers they’d stumbled upon.

They beat them across the body, and made an exceptional amount of noise, doing literally no damage to the creatures and more than likely attracting more.

The four comrades looked at each other and sighed, moving to help out the prisoners. The mustached man was stabbing at one of the creature’s stomachs again and again, without making much headway towards killing it. (y/n) pressed the flat of one of her blades against his chest, moving him back so she could teach.

“That ain’t gonna work. These things can take multiple rounds to the chest an’ not even flinch. Believe me, I’ve seen it. If ya wanna hurt it--if ya wanna kill it, aim for the brain.” She emphasized her point by grabbing the walker’s hair and shoving one of her blades under its chin, letting go as the thing slumped over.

The man holding the corpse seemed intimidated for one, but the mustache man was harder to read. She eyed him, choosing to lightly yank a lock of his hair before adding: “If I were you, I’d get that cut. These things like to grab.” She motioning to her own hairstyle as she spoke. She walked away, moving to head the group as they fell back into formation.

She could hear his utterances of, “Y-yes, Ma’am. Thank you, Ma’am,” following her as she left.

Something to which his partner uttered, “man, would you get a grip on yourself?”

She couldn’t tell if Mustache was terrified of her, or if he was just developing a crush on her.

She really hoped it was the first thing.

~

Sooner or later, they’d clumped back together, and Rick and Daryl lead the group as they taught the prisoners how to properly fight the walking dead.

“Stay in tight formation. No more prison riot crap.” Rick coached.

In the fray, the biggest guy, Big Tiny, as the others called him, backed farther and farther from the group and found himself cornered by two walkers.

They were taken out, but in the process, he got scratched rather badly.

“(n/n), will he turn?” Rick asked, holding up the flashlight to the man’s back as she inspected the wound.

“I don’t know, I never thought to study scratches, I only looked at bites, but if the thing’s bodily fluids got into the wound, then it’s fairly likely that he will.” She informed calmly.

“I’m telling you, I don’t feel anything. It’s just a scratch.” The man informed the group, turning around and looking down at (y/n) with pleading eyes. “I’m fine, Doc, I feel fine.”

She sighed, giving him a pitying look as she rubbed the man’s arm, “That ain’t really how this works, Sugar.” She whispered delicately, talking to him the way she would a small child.

“you cut that old guy’s leg off to save his life,” The shortest prisoner accused.

“Look at where the scratch is,” Rick pointed out.

“Guys, I’m fine! Just—” he turned to look at Rick, “I’m fine. Look, I’m not changing into one of those things.”

Rick stared him down, before turning to (y/n).

“(n/n)?”

She sighed, shaking her head as she re-examined the wound.

“You’re not even going to try and help him?” The short guy accused once more, “You son of a bitch.”

(y/n) tried to appease the prisoners, but there really wasn’t much she could do to help.

“I mean, we could turn back for now, I could clean it up best I can—the others can stay in the side room while I keep him under observation for the night--If he’s gonna turn, then we’ll know by this time tomorrow at the latest, if not by-”

Before she can continue talking, Rick is grabbing her around the waist, lifting her up and away from her spot on the ground as Thomas comes up behind his friend and whacks him brutally over the head. He continues to beat, coming up bloodier and bloodier than the time before. He brutalizes the skull of the man who was supposed to be a friend of his.

As he does this, Rick ushers (y/n) behind him, and over to Daryl. He practically hands the woman over to her boyfriend, who pulls her into his side as they both watch the carnage with faces of stone.

Thomas stares Rick down, crazed, and for the first time (y/n) sees him like the dog he wanted her to see. Not a puppy, or a fly, but a rabid, mangy, dog. He needed to be put down.

~

(y/n) stared down at the body of Thomas as Rick ran from the room, chasing after one of the three remaining prisoners.

Thomas had been asking for it, really. He’d been showing himself to be more and more unstable as he struggled to take control from Rick’s iron grip on the situation. He straight up tossed a walker at the man. That was the final straw for just about everyone. Daryl and T-Dog had moved to assist their leader on the ground, but (y/n), in a fit of rage, had rushed his attacker. Grabbing Thomas by the hair, she’d buried her knife under his chin.

She had warned the man she’d do anything for Rick. It wasn’t her fault he hadn’t listened.

If she hadn’t done it, someone else probably would have.

 It wasn’t her fault.

But she still felt sick.

 

T-Dog and Daryl had watched over the two remaining prisoners, who were sitting on their knees, hands in the air, as (y/n) moved behind one of the many washing machines in the room, clutching the corner of the appliance as she emptied her stomach.

“Y’alright back there, Princess?” Daryl called, though she doubted he chanced even a glance towards her in case their captives tried something.

Her answer was a few heavy breaths before she began to dry heave. There had barely been enough in her stomach to make any sort of a mess on the floor, and at this point, there was nothing left to empty.

“(n/n)? You alright, girl?” T-Dog echoed, moving to her side to rub her back

She nodded, waving him away, finally calmed from her nauseous episode, “I’m fine, I’m just peachy. I just… never killed a livin’ person before. It’s… It’s different, you know?”

Her mind was still repeating the moment the life drained from the man’s eyes. He’d had just enough time to recognize who killed him. He probably cursed her name as he died.

“It’s…I didn’t want to, but he was dangerous. He killed that poor man, he threw a walker at Rick…an’ that fanclub boy he’s chasin’ down, he’s just as dangerous. He’s frightened an’ desperate, an’ now, he’s got a vendetta.” She sighed, motioning towards the body on the ground.

She gagged but placed a hand over her mouth, and the feeling began to ebb. She’ll get over it. Probably quicker than she’ll be comfortable with.

“It’s alright, Ma’am, we know you don’t want to kill no one. You’re a good woman, a doctor, right? You wanna help good people, an’ Oscar an’ I? We’re good people, not like them. We ain’t violent-”

The mustached man had been yapping for a good while now, saying the same things over and over, pleading for his life. The other prisoner, Oscar told him to shut up, and (y/n) rather agreed. The constant buzzing of the prisoner’s voice was beginning to irk her.

There had been more pleading once Rick had come back, half-crazed and angry, pointing his gun at the poor man, who was still pleading desperately for his life.

For a second, as he pleaded, (y/n) felt like her people were the bad guys; but then, looking at Thomas on the floor, she reminded  herself that Lori is back in the cell block, Pregnant, That Hershel was bleeding out in a cell, that Carl and Beth were in there, too… She shook off the guilt. There was no good or bad, anymore.

There was only the people she cared about, and everyone else.


	20. And Baby Makes Trouble.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A good morning turns into a shitty afternoon turns into a good night.

On the march down to the prisoner’s new cellblock, (y/n) sidled up next to Rick

“Is he dead? The short angry guy?” She asked quietly,

“I left him outside with the walkers,” Rick informed.

“Okay, but is he dead? Do you know for sure?”

Rick turned to look at her, he seemed like he wanted to smack her, but she knew he wasn’t really angry with her, it was the situation they were in. It was putting pressure on all of them, here in the place that was supposed to be the solution to their worries.

“…I don’t know. Probably. I didn’t stay to find out.”

She sighed, raising her voice a little, catching the attention of the other people they’re with,

“Probably? Rick, are you kiddin’ me? This is the kid on the fence all over again.”

“That turned out fine.” He defended

“Are ya fuckin’ jokin’? ‘cuz you better be. What was fine about that? The part where I almost got bit savin’ his ass? Or maybe the part where Shane used him to lure you into a field and y’all attracted a whole horde a walkers?”

Rick rubbed at his temples as he hushed her, not wanting the prisoners to hear them argue, but it seemed it was already too late. The two remaining men were watching them closely from behind, where Daryl and T-Dog were still guarding them.

“I’m the leader, I made my choices. You told me you’d support them, so support them. If we start to argue, we’ll fall apart.”

They stopped in the middle of the dark hall, staring each other down. Despite the quiet volume of the argument, it seemed to be getting heated. Rick motioned for Daryl to move them forward, and he nodded, sparing a glance over his shoulder at them as he passed with the prisoners.

“I do support your decisions, I do. but-”

“-but what, (n/n)? Because it seems like ever since we got here, you’ve been arguin’ with me at every turn. I don’t want to have to deal with another Shane. I _won’t_ deal with another Shane. I said this ain’t a democracy. If you wanna be leader, then go ahead, an’ lead whoever’ll follow you, but you can’t stay here if you do.”

 “I’m not lookin’ to lead, Rick. I’m just tryin’ to help you. Look at yourself; you’re comin’ apart at the seams. You have been since the farm. You can lead, an’ I’ll follow you. To the ends of the earth. You know that. But you can’t do it alone, because it’s killin’ you. Not physically, but mentally. You can’t deny; you’re not the man you were at the start. If you keep goin’ like this, there’ll be none of that man left.”

He adjusted his stance, looking down at his feet before he looked back up at her.

“So, what do you suggest?” he asked.

 It was a challenge. (y/n) could see he was getting irked, but at least he was still listening.

“Let us help you. Take on an adviser. A second in command or somethin’. I told you before I was willin’ to be an assistant. Discuss issues with someone. Whether it’s me, or Daryl, I don’t care. Hell; I think it’d be best if you listened to both of us, but just stop tryin’ to do everythin’ on your own. Yeah, it’s worked so far, but at what cost? Carl’s practically takin’ care of him an’ Lori all on his own because you’re too focused on everythin’ else. When was the last time you even said three words to your own wife?”

He regarded her, eyes shifting over her face as he took in her expression. No one had argued with his decisions in eight months, and the last time someone did, they almost killed him. She could imagine he wasn’t all that thrilled about her speaking up, regardless of her intentions.

He took a sharp breath, and right before it seemed he was about to explode on her, he let it out, looking tired, but a bit more like the Rick she met all that time ago in the CDC.

“You know, I think I preferred the (n/n) that never spoke an’ hated everybody.” A weak smile ghosted his features, and (y/n) smacked at his arm.

“Shut up, you. You missed me.”

They moved to catch up with the group, who were just now at the cell block door.

“If you really liked her that much, plan another eight-month road trip. I’m sure she’ll come back.”

She added just as they reached the others.

Rick laughed slightly, just before he slid the scowl back on his face for the prisoners

“I don’t think we’ll be doin’ that again anytime soon.”

~

“Hershel stopped breathing. Mom saved him.” That was the first thing (y/n) heard as she entered the cell block.

Staring down at Hershel, the man seemed pale, and clammy, and weak, but his breathing was even. Shallow as it may be.

Slowly, before the group’s eyes, the man began to awaken. Alive, much to the collective relief of the group.

(y/n) felt herself wrap her arms around Carl’s shoulders as she stood behind him in the doorway. The boy leaned against her as he filled with relief. After a bit, the group cleared out, Rick following after Lori, and everyone else leaving the Greenes and Glen to themselves.

“So, where’d y’all find the gauze and the medicine for his leg? He probably wouldn’t a made it without all that stuff in that bag in the cell.” Daryl asked Carl as they stood around, trying to give the family in the cell nearby space.

“I went to the infirmary.” He stated matter-of-factly, “It was stocked with all kinds of stuff.”

(y/n)’s eyes bugged at that. “You went where? Alone? Are you crazy?” she asked as she turned the boy around in her grip, kneeling down to look him in the eye.

He growled, looking down at his feet as he responded, “I know, I’m a kid, and I shouldn’t go off alone, and I shouldn’t be fighting and what if something happened to me, how would my parents feel? I already heard that from Lori.”

“No, that’s not it. It’s because you don’t have a proper weapon. What if you’d run into more walkers than you had bullets in that gun a yours? You don’t have any melee weapons, an’ you don’t have trainin’ in usin’ them.”

He looked up at her, confused, but still upset at being reprimanded.

“Maybe you should, though.” She whispered, letting go of his shoulders, and standing.

She couldn’t focus on that now. They had work to do.

~

(y/n) rode Daryl’s bike through the gates, moving in the last of their vehicles into their new home. When he saw her, he rushed over, helping her put the kickstand down and kill the engine. He’d taught her to ride it, but still, he was always nervous letting her drive. He was a fan of backseat driving and taking over. She wasn’t sure if he was afraid she’d get hurt, or afraid his bike would.

Even still, as soon as she dismounted from the bike, she grabbed his face and gave him a quick peck. Distantly, she heard Rick listing off the group’s To-Do list, including moving the cars to the west entry and collecting the bodies for burning.

“’s gonna be a long day.” T-dog sighed in response.

“Where’s Glen and Maggie? We could use the help.” Carol muttered before Daryl motioned towards the guard tower.

“What? But they were just up there last night.” Rick stated, confused.

(y/n) huffed lightly, rolling her eyes. She never should have told Maggie about that spot. Her and Glen had been hogging it ever since.

“Hey, Glen!” Daryl called.

In response, Glen emerged from the tower, shirtless, and struggling to buckle his pants. “Uhh, hey guys, what’s up?” he asked nonchalantly, though everyone could tell he was guilty.

“You comin’?” Daryl yelled back up, causing Carol and (y/n) to chuckle and bump each other lightly.

“What?”

“are you comin’?” he repeated at Glen’s attempt at ignorance.

(y/n) smacked his chest with the back of her hand, grin a mile wide, “Be nice,” She reprimanded weakly.

He simply shrugged, tucking her under his arm, “’s what they get for stealin’ our spot.”

The group grinned as Glen assured them they’d be right down, turning to move towards the cars again, when T-Dog called the group back, having spotted something approaching the gates at the top of the hill.

Ricks smile drained from his face as he recognized the figures as the two remaining prisoners, motioning for (y/n) and Daryl to follow him up the hill.

~

The argument over what to do with the prisoners was circular and ultimately pointless. Rick wasn’t going to let them stay, regardless of how much T-Dog protested.

They were currently locked up in between the entrance gates as the group moved the vehicles up to the prison.

The mustached one, Axel, had attempted to bond with Daryl a bit, trying to get him to talk about the bike. He’d simply brushed him off, growling at him not to look at it as he drove off, (y/n) riding behind him.

Axel called out after them, attempting to offer mechanical maintenance, “You don’t want your woman riding on the back of a faulty bike, do you?” he called desperately at their retreating forms.

(y/n) gave a big sigh as they road up towards the prison, “well that was just sad to listen to.” She said into Daryl’s neck. He huffed.

“Don’t tell me you think we should take pity on them, and let ‘em in.”

“Of course not, it’s just… sad. Like a lot of things these days.”

~

As if the universe conspired to prove her wrong, she spotted something miraculous as she helped T-Dog and Carol move the rest of the cars.

Hershel, up and walking around with crutches.

She smiled, joining in with Glen’s cheers from farther along the fences as they watched him and the others around him approach.

The smile faltered a bit, brows furrowing as she spotted something behind Carl. Following her gaze, or perhaps, just sensing danger, the boy turned around, shouting as walkers began to swarm the yard.

Rushing forward, (y/n) ran towards the doctor and his daughter, putting the man in a fireman carry as she called behind her for Beth to grab his crutches.

The girl obeyed, and the three of them managed to get to the gated doorway of a nearby building just before the walkers arrived.

Distantly, (y/n) could hear Rick yelling for Lori as he made his way around the outside of the fences towards them, Daryl hot on his heels, calling out to her with just as much desperation.

She eased Hershel back down and steadying him as Beth returned the crutches. They watched hopelessly as the rest of the group was forced to separate. (y/n) yelled into the fencing as T-Dog closed the gate, unable to protect himself from a walker as it came up behind him, biting a chunk out of his shoulder before he disappeared into an uncleared section of the prison with Carol.

Though she was panicked for Carol, and preemptively mourning T-Dog, she was able to feel some relief watching  Carl and Lori disappear with Maggie into C Block, but she could do nothing else as she haplessly clung to the fencing, watching as Rick, Daryl, and Glen approached followed by the prisoners. They were panicked and jumpy, fighting off the walkers as they tried to figure out what went wrong.

“Here,” (y/n) stated after they were all caught up, “I’ll come with you, let me just-”

“No!” Rick barked, on the cusp of manic frenzy as he began to move towards the cell block Lori had disappeared into, “Stay put. You’re safe there, stay that way.”

She wanted to argue; she really, really did. Instead, she nodded, stepping back to embrace Beth, who was shaking like a leaf as she watched the rest of the group storm off towards the generators, where the control for the blaring loudspeakers was located.

~

As soon as the alarms cut off, (y/n), Beth and Hershel emerged from the gates, waiting for the others to appear.

Rick, Daryl, and Glen did, however, the others had yet to show up.

Rick began to formulate a plan to look for them when he was cut off by the cries of an infant. (y/n) held her breath, counting two heads, and a baby. No Lori. Carl looked so distant. The sight almost broke her heart.

Rick’s face went blank, dropping his axe to the ground as he paced in disbelief, crying and wailing for his wife. (y/n)’s eyes burned, for Carl and for Rick, but she couldn’t cry for Lori. (y/n) knew it was coming, and so had Lori. She hadn’t really spoken to the woman since the morning she’d confronted her about the virus, but every so often they’d give each other knowing looks as if confirming that they both knew she was on borrowed time.

She’d already done all her mourning months ago.

(y/n) remembered the little boy she knew back at the farm. The one who would smile and laugh as he punched at her hands in the summer afternoons. she couldn’t see a hint of that boy, now. All she could see was a soldier dealing with the horrors of war, and that hurt more than anything.

 She approached the stoic boy cautiously, watching silent tears streak down his face. She opened her arms and he walked himself into them robotically, allowing her to rock him back and forth as his hands came up, gripping the back of her shirt in a vice grip.

Over his head, (y/n) watched as Daryl tried to get Rick’s attention, but wherever the man was, he wasn’t going to be coming back to the group anytime soon.

Hershel, looking over the baby, informed them that she’d need to eat soon, or she wouldn’t make it.

“Nope. Not her. we’re not losin’ anyone else. I’ll go on a run.” Daryl stated immediately, with Maggie, Glen and (y/n) echoing that they’d follow.

Daryl held (n/n) back, “Carl just lost his mom. Beth can look after the baby, but someone needs to stay with the kid, too. Last time I checked, he liked you.”

She gave him a nod, receding from her march to the vehicles before placing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Be careful, please. Stay safe.”

“I always am. We’ll be back before dark.”

She scoffed lightly, “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.”

He began to walk backward, keeping his gaze on her a few extra seconds before leaving in the direction Glen and Maggie went.

~

She’d gotten kind of close to Carl back when they’d trained at the farm, but after it was overrun, and she’d closed herself off for the winter, they’d drifted back apart until they’d only occasionally give each other acknowledging nods during house sweeps.

At the prison, Carl’s father was always off doing other things, and his mother had been too pregnant and tired to keep track of him, leading him to come to her whenever he needed something. They’d gotten even closer once she’d begun to train him again.

She’d began to teach him to use knives and daggers after his stunt at the infirmary. At first, she’d give him sticks, so he could get used to having a weight in his hands, and later, she’d let him handle her shears when he proved he wouldn’t hit himself with them.

It was hard work, and the boy often finished training sessions sweaty and winded, collapsing in the grass, but he never stopped grinning or running up to her impatiently waiting for her to finish chores so they could start the next lesson.

It’s what they were doing now, to try and distract him from the fact that his father just stormed off into the catacombs of the prison, alongside everything else.

(y/n) figured, even if he didn’t have access to certain weapons, he should still know how to use them, and how to counter them. That afternoon, she had him running through counters and attacks for blunt force weapons, using a broken branch she’d found out near the riverbank.

They went back and forth, running through takedowns and disarms when Carl asked her something that caught her completely off-guard.

 “Are you and Daryl going to have a baby?”

She froze, and almost forgot to block the incoming attack from the boy

“What? No! No! no, no, no. No. No.” she said, grabbing the weapon and pushing him back, a sign to tell him to come in again, “Where is this coming from?” she laughed uncomfortably, shaking off the surprise and the hot embarrassment seeping into her skin as she looked to Beth, sitting in the grass with the baby a little way off.

“It’s just, you guys are a couple, and couples have babies, and I guess it’s hard to prevent it from happening now or something. My mom wouldn’t have gotten pregnant if she could have prevented it.” He said casually, quietly, “And she was really scared. She knew she was going to die, and that scares me. What if you or Maggie gets pregnant, too? What if…”

The boy lowered the stick in his hands, and shrunk down, hat covering his eyes as he tried to talk through the crack in his voice. “What if you die like mom did, and then I’m just alone with two babies?”

She kneeled, rubbing his arms as she tried to look at him in the eyes.

“Alright, well, first thing: I’m not pregnant, an’ I don’t plan on ever gettin’ that way. I’d be a shit mom.”

Carl grinned through his tears a bit at that, but he shook his head as if he didn’t agree.

“An’ second, if I go, you won’t be alone with the baby, you’ll have your dad, and Daryl, Glen, an’ the Greenes; a whole group that cares about you. Sure, maybe one day you’ll find yourself on your own, no one to look after you, but that’s why we’re doin’ stuff like this. So that one day, you won’t have to worry about bein’ off on your own, ‘cause you’ll be able to take care a yourself.”

Carl continues to hold back his cries, “But I won’t. Dad’s gone crazy, we don’t even know where he is right now. What if Daryl gets the same way If that happens to you? That’s two less people than you said I’d have.”

She hugged him tightly, as he sobbed; looking over his shoulder at Beth, who seemed to be crying, too. The baby made three, and as (y/n) looked down at the wet spot on Carl’s shoulder, she guessed she made four.

~

Daryl and Maggie returned later that night, and (y/n) watched as he took the baby from Carl’s arms, cooing her softly as he held the bottle to her mouth.

It was such a bizarre sight, and (y/n) couldn’t help but be reminded of the wild, loud-mouthed, angry, hick of a boy she’d met at the CDC, getting blackout drunk and cursing at her as she tentatively flirted.

The person in front of her now was a man, no ‘if’s ‘and’s or ‘but’s about it. And he was cooing at a baby in his well-muscled, dirt-covered arms.

“Come on, come on,” he encouraged as the baby began to drink from the bottle, “She got a name yet?”

“Not yet, but I was thinking, maybe Sofia. Then again, maybe Carol. Or…Andrea, Amy, Jacqui, Patricia, or… Lori. I don’t know.” Carl finished, looking down at the floor. (y/n) gripped his shoulder lightly, and he moved his hand up to grab hers.

Daryl moved his attention back down to the baby, and smiled, watching as she hungrily sucked down the formula. “You like that? Huh?” he asked softly, a tone She’d never heard him use before. None of the regular gravel his voice usually carried, but it did have the same effect on (y/n) as anything else would, maybe it had even more of an effect, “Little ass-kicker.” He grinned wide as a chuckle made its way around the room. “Right?” he asked the others after he saw the reaction his name had garnered.

“Little ass-kicker,” he cooed again, “You like that, huh? You like that sweetheart?”

Was it weird for her to be completely into this? She supposed not, because Maggie came up beside her, grinning knowingly as she poked (y/n) with her elbow.

“Suppose you’ll be takin’ the guard tower tonight, huh?”

Yes. They would be doing that.


	21. Whose Kid is it, Anyway?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where family relations are made up, and blood doesn't matter.

As soon as the infant had been taken from Daryl, he’d been dragged forcefully from the room and out to the guard tower for the night.

Knowing smirks laced the faces of most of the people left in the room, with only Carl’s confused

“Where’s she taking him?” left to echo around the room they’d just left.

“Somethin’ up, Princess?” He asked as soon as they’d made their way out into the yard, he stopped letting her pull him, leading her to be yanked back a bit by the inertia of his resistance. She turned around to stare at the man.

He seemed confused, but he was smiling at her as if he found her utterly adorable and amusing, whatever her intentions were. She couldn’t help it.

She jumped on him.

Securing her legs around his hips, she kissed him rough in the middle of the prison yard and felt him growl into the kiss, gripping her ass eagerly, feigning his grip as merely keeping her aloft.

When they came up for air, he began to walk them towards the tower as she kissed her way down his neck, sucking and biting as she could.

“Not that I’m not for it, but where’s all this comin’ from, (n/n)? Hasn’t exactly been the most romantic day,” he grunted as he felt her nibble at his earlobe.

“It’s just how gentle an’ soft you were with Little Ass-Kicker…never seen you like that before, really got me goin’.” She said, pulling back as she felt him freeze in his tracks.

“(n/n)…do you… want a baby?” he asked sounding frightened and incredibly nervous.

“What? No! Hell no!” She said quickly, pausing to look at him fully in the moonlight, “Why, do you…want one?” she asked cautiously.

“No...” he said quickly, though it sounded like there was a ‘but’ somewhere in the subtext of his answer, if there was one he wasn’t sharing it, and with everything that had happened earlier in the day, (y/n) felt like it was better left unsaid for the moment.

“Listen, with all the shit we went through today, it’s a miracle we’ve managed to get anywhere near ‘in the mood’. I’m horny, you’re horny, the tower’s right there, let’s not ruin it by thinkin’ too much.”

She finished her statement by brushing her thumb over his cheek. He scanned his eyes across her face, drinking in her features before turning to place a kiss to her caressing palm.

“Yeah, alright.”

~

In the morning, they had to come back to reality. They’d lost so much yesterday. T-Dog, Lori, Carol. Oh god, they’d lost Carol.

(y/n) hadn’t even processed that until the morning, but she felt the tears prick her eyes as the first rays of daybreak filtered into the tower.

Carol, who’d always been willing to trade quips, and pick her up when she was down. Always alternating between girlfriend and mother figure.

At least, wherever she was, she and Sophia were together.

And T-Dog. She hadn’t been close with him, but every interaction they’d ever had, had been pleasant. He’d always been so kind to her. For some reason, she thought back to that day on the highway. If she’d agreed to go with him, if she, T-Dog, and Dale had just left… would he still be alive right now? Would Dale?

She felt the man beside her stir slightly, arm around her stomach tightening as he began to wake. He pulled her into him further, the noise of shifting fabric permeating the quiet morning as she was dragged across the mattress until her rear came into contact with the crotch of the man behind her. he kissed up her neck lazily, the whiskers on his chin tickling her skin, raising goosebumps in their wake.

If she’d gone that day, she’d never have gotten this. It might have been selfish, but she couldn’t bring herself to regret her choices thus far.

She moaned happily into the morning and felt Daryl’s other hand come up to caress her breast.

“What were you thinkin’ about? Sounded like you were snifflin’.” He croaked; the earliness of the hour obvious in the tone of his voice.

And she supposed he was right. She sniffed once more, brushing a few tears away as she turned to look at him.

“Thinkin’ about yesterday. About the choices I’ve made since this whole thing started.” She whispered, bending her arm to caress his cheek.

“Any regrets?” he grumbled; she could practically feel the self-conscious tension still prevalent in his question. Even after eight months on the road, even after all her assurances, even after all the times she’d called out his name with desperate pleasure in the dead of night in this very tower, he still didn’t seem to grasp how fully she’d fallen for him.

“Nope.” She answered with a love-sick grin, “None come to mind. Oh, except this one time, in a CDC bunker, I was about to bed this incredibly sexy redneck with a crossbow.” She recounted, as if said redneck wasn’t right in front of her, grinning wildly, drinking in her figure as the early morning sun cast an ethereal glow around her.

“Really, what happened?” he played along, moving to trace a beam of sunlight streaking across her stomach.

“Oh, well I should have let ‘im ravage me, but I was dumb enough to let ‘im slip through my fingers. Didn’t end up sleepin’ with ‘em till almost nine months had passed.”

The tips of his ears turned pink, but the smirk he was giving her let her know he was rather pleased with himself, as well as with her answer.

She sighed, shifting to lie on her back so she could look at him fully, deciding to give him a more serious answer, as well.

“I know there was nothin’ we could have done to save Lori. I just can’t help wonderin’… If I’d gone with ‘em to help close the gate instead of rushin’ to Hershel an’ Beth… maybe I could have kept T-Dog from gettin’ bit. Maybe I could have saved him and Carol…” she whispered into the morning.

Daryl’s hand came behind her head, digging his fingers into her scalp affectionately as he pressed his lips to hers.

“More than likely, you would’ve been ambushed with ‘em, an’ Beth an' Hershel wouldn’t a made it to safety. We woulda lost three more than we already did, an’ I’d be goin’ just about as crazy as Rick right now. Don’t beat yourself up over this. It ain’t your fault, Princess.”

She looked into his eyes and realized he was serious. He’d meant it when he’d said he’d go crazy if he lost her. She could tell from the way he was holding her. possessive and needy.

“…I think I saw a Cherokee Rose bush out near the fields where the stream is. We should pick some. For Carol’s grave.”

He nodded, grinning sadly. Carol had been an important person. To both of them.

She kissed the tears forming on his cheeks, as they clutched each other’s naked forms in the early morning hours. A pair of lovers, mourning the loss of a very dear friend.

~

Breakfast was silent, (y/n) had forgone sitting on the steps with Daryl to instead sit with Carl. The boy stared into his meal, not moving to take a bite.

“You should eat somethin’, Baby.” (y/n) whispered to him; voice weak as she barely kept from crying for him.

She didn’t get an answer.

“Everybody okay?” Came an echoing voice from the other side of the cell block door. Everyone turned to see Rick emerge from the catacombs. He still had that vacant stare, but he seemed to be more together than he had been, and he’d showered.

(y/n) took that as a good sign, rubbing Carl’s back as his father approached. “Yeah, we are.” She confirmed.

“I cleared the boiler block,” he stated softly.

“How many were there?” Daryl asked conversationally, trying to gauge how present his friend actually was.

“I dunno. A dozen, two dozen. I have to get back. I just wanted to check on Carl.” Rick hadn’t even glanced in the direction of his newborn daughter, yet.

He continued; all business, as soon as Glen spoke up, suggesting he take a break. Of course, Rick refused. Even when he was in his right mind, he was always working. He continued to assess their weapon supplies, Glen again, speaking up, mentioning his run with Maggie later in the day. After Daryl informed him of the chores of the rest of the group for the day, Rick was gone again, not even trying to acknowledge the baby.

Hershel attempted to call out to him, but it was no use. Carl turned to (n/n), sharing an emotionlessly devastating look with her. she pulled him to her side, moving his hat to kiss his forehead. She wasn’t exactly sure why, but she’d taken to becoming den mother. Beth looked after the baby, but she was still a teenager and seemed content enough to have (n/n) watch over her and take over whenever she needed a break. As for Carl, (y/n) didn’t plan on leaving his side for a while. The boy needed her, even if he wanted to pretend he didn’t.

Daryl watched the exchange with conflicted eyes. It was… nice. Watching (y/n) be so nurturing with the kids and the baby. Adorable, even. He knew, even if she protested and claimed to kingdom come that she didn’t want one of her own, (n/n) would be a good mom. But he couldn’t. With his familial history? He was too afraid of becoming his father.

~

(y/n) had been refused invitation to the sweep of the lower blocks by Carl.

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, (n/n), but I don’t need you to supervise me all the time.” He’d stated bluntly.

(y/n) had been baffled, looking to Oscar and Daryl for assistance. “It shouldn’t matter whether or not you need my supervision, I’m a good fighter. What if you need me down there?”

Daryl shrugged, looking down at Carl, “It’ll be fine, Princess. Pretty sure Rick slaughtered most of ‘em, it’s just a sweep.”

She raised her eyebrows at him, not appreciating the stance he’d chosen to take. Behind him, Oscar seemed to laugh, masking it with a cough when (y/n) moved her incredulous stare over to him.

She shrugged, exasperated as she gave up. Obviously, she was outnumbered.

“Alright, I’ll just hang out with Beth, then. We’ll have a girl’s day. Me, her, an’ the little bit.”

Carl, seeming satisfied with her answer, moved to exit the cell block, but (y/n) called him back.

“Be careful, please.”

He nodded, before turning back towards the halls.

Daryl kissed her quick, assuring her it’d be fine before he and Oscar followed the kid.

“Is Rick alright with you and your wife just adopting his son like that?” she heard Oscar’s hazing comment echo off the dark halls the group had just disappeared down.

“Shut up, man,” came Daryl’s reply.

~

Beth was mixing formula for the baby.

“you know…I used to have this girlfriend in college…she was just beautiful,” (y/n) reminisced, cradling the baby girl in her arms. “Her name was Minerva. I called her Minnie. Minnie and (n/n).” She hummed to the giggling infant as she was filled with fond nostalgia.

“You must have been really close friends,” Beth stated, watching the grin on (y/n)’s face shift a bit, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“I didn’t say she was a friend, Beth.”

The young girl blushed, looking back down at the bottle in her hands, “O-oh…”

“Anywho, I was just thinkin’… it’s not really my call to make, but… Minerva’s a good name, ain't it? I dunno. Maybe it’s silly.”

Beth smiled kindly, “it’s not silly.” She handed the bottle over to (y/n), and the woman began to feed the baby in her arms.

She smiled, watching the infant hungrily suck down the formula. Looking back up, she saw Beth watching her, a curious, and almost knowing expression on her face.

(y/n) coughed uncomfortably. “Yeah, no. It’s a dumb idea. ‘s Carl’s sister an’ Rick’s baby. She’s theirs to name.”

Beth shrugged, still grinning down at the woman with the babe.

“Well, maybe one day you’ll have one of your own. I think Daryl would like the name Minerva, too.”

(y/n) giggled nervously; blush prevalent on her face as the baby finished the formula and begun to cry.

(y/n) burped her, but still, the infant wailed.

“Why’s she cryin’? She doesn’t need changin’ she ain’t hungry…”

Beth shrugged, “She cried for no reason last night, but once I started singing, she calmed right down. I think she liked the vibrations that the singing produced.”

Beth offered her arms out to take the child, and (y/n) conceded, as Beth began to sing something. To (y/n)’s amazement, the baby calmed down, choosing instead to close her eyes and lean into the chest that supported her.

“You are the baby whisperer.” (y/n) murmured, earning her a chuckle from the teen she was watching over.

Hershel had joined them later, and after the baby was fully asleep, Beth handed the infant over to the man as she began to prepare dinner with (y/n) playing assistant, still not a cooking whiz.

Carl had joined a little later, choosing to sit and watch the girls cook silently. (y/n) had asked where Daryl was, but the boy simply stated that he’d wanted to be alone. She was concerned but knew that Daryl could handle himself, choosing to let him be alone if that’s what he wanted.

When Rick finally re-emerged, every pair of eyes in the room fell to him, watching as the man moved towards the infant, taking her from Hershel to hold to his chest, staring down at the small creature with wonder.

The sight made (y/n) smile.

Yeah, everything would be just fine.

~

The positive sentiment was short-lived, as the group had made their way outside, choosing to enjoy the afternoon sun. The moment was cut abruptly short when Rick spotted something off in the distance.

He handed the baby in his arms off to his son, motioning for (y/n) to follow him. She did so, unsheathing a blade at her thigh as she followed him into the field.

Out beyond the fences, a woman with a sword on her back, and a basket of baby formula in her hands gripped at the fencing, staring Rick and (y/n) down.


	22. Hot Rocks

The woman at the fence had passed out shortly after the walkers began to swarm her. Rick and (y/n), with the help of Carl, managed to rescue her just in time. Rick carried the woman through the gates, and up to the cell block while (y/n) followed closely behind with the woman’s katana.

She unsheathed it just a bit to examine the blade as they hurried into the building. Carl watched her, leaning around her side to eye the weapon alongside her. She gave a low whistle, pausing to fully unsheathe it, running her finger gingerly over the edge, careful not to slice herself.

“’fore she leaves, she _needs_ to tell me where she picked this beauty up.”

The woman returned the blade to its scabbard and patted Carl’s back to get him to hurry ahead of her as they moved to catch up with the group.

~

Rick brought the woman inside, attempting to get her to speak before Daryl emerged from the cells. “You’re goin’ to want to see this.” He’d informed before leading the group back into the main area, locking the door to the room their visitor was in, securing her as the group went to investigate what Daryl had to show the group.

(y/n) stayed behind the others, and couldn’t truly see what the others seemed to be so happy about until a thin woman with short gray hair stood up to embrace Rick. The man smiled softly, and (y/n) was able to spy just a little bit of life return to her friend’s features. He may never be the man he once was, but perhaps, Rick Grimes wasn’t all gone either.

She couldn’t believe it. Carol, though she was covered in dirt and sweat, and seemed terribly frail, was alive. (y/n) brought a hand up to her mouth as tears sprung to her eyes, watching as the older woman greeted the others softly, and then seeing the baby, and realizing that Lori was gone.

She cupped Ricks cheek, grieving for him before turning back to the child. Pausing to look up, she locked eyes with the other woman standing just a bit away, tears streaking her face.

“(n/n). Oh, (n/n).” She moved towards her friend just as she broke into sobs, embracing the younger woman and hugging her close.

She was real, this was real.

They pulled away, (y/n) bringing her thumb up to the corner of her eye to wipe away the few stray tears, sniffing as she asked, “Do you wanna hold the baby?”

Carol broke into a grin, turning to take the infant from Beth as (y/n) moved around the group.

She locked eyes with Daryl, who seemed uncomfortable about the soft scene unfolding in front of him, but she could tell, by the twinkle in his eyes he was happy to see that his friend was alive. She moved to him, burying her face in his chest, and feeling his arms come around to hold her loosely as their family gathered around the newborn.

~

As it turned out, the woman, Michonne, had come to inform them that Glen and Maggie had been taken by a man, the same one who’d caused the gunshot wound in her leg. After a rather tense conversation, she eventually agreed to shepherd them to the town of Woodberry where they were apparently being held.

“I don’t like this. This is a dumb idea.” (y/n) muttered as she leaned against the car currently being loaded with what little siege supplies they could improvise. She fiddled with one of her blades, twirling it in her grip as she stared down Michonne, who in turn, was staring down her.

“Nah,” Daryl negated, “You just don’t like that Rick’s makin’ you stay behind.”

She turned to glare at him as Oscar laughed lightly.

She moved away from the car, choosing to find Rick instead. When she did, he was just finishing up talking with Carl, and she waited for him to release his son from his embrace before moving to grab his attention.

“Rick, this is crazy. You’re goin’ on a rescue mission an’ you’re not even bringin’ your best fighter?” she asked, motioning to herself, “actually, let me rephrase that; you’re goin’ on a crazy suicide mission, an’ you’re leavin’ your bestie behind.” She added after, attempting to bring humor to the conversation after seeing Rick tense up and huff at her original approach.

“You’re right, (n/n). You are our best fighter, which is why you’re stayin’ behind. If somethin’ happens while we’re gone, I’m goin’ to need you to stay here. Protect Carl, Judith, and the others.”

(y/n) paused as a small smile graced her face. “You named her Judith?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Nothin’ it’s just… ‘bout time she got one.” (y/n) shook her head, feeling the short strands flick wildly at the back of her head, “But yeah, alright, I get it. I’ll watch our asses from back here; Aunt (n/n) to the rescue. Again.”

Rick lets out a relieved groan, “Ah! She’s finally agreeable again.”

She snorted, as she turned to walk back towards the others, “real nice, Rick.”

“Hey,” he said, stopping her before they fully returned to the group, “I know you were joking before, but you are. Their aunt. In every way but blood and marriage.” He assured.

She smiled slightly, moving to give him a side hug. She rubbed his back before detaching from him and looking over towards Daryl who was just finishing up loading the car.

She nodded over to him, “Bring ‘im back. In one piece, preferably, but I’ll accept ‘im with a couple of dings here an’ there.”

The two laughed lightly as she helped them load the last of the stuff into the car.

Daryl moved to hop into the cab of the vehicle, but she stopped him.

“Be careful, be safe, come back to me, an’ all that mushy stuff.” She joked, kicking at his shin lightly.

He wrapped her in a hug, allowing her to place multiple smooches to his lips before he cupped her face.

“We’ll be right back. Promise.”

She stepped back and allowing them room to drive off. As she watched them leave, she made eye contact with Michonne once more. The samurai had paused to eye her and Daryl’s exchange when she’d opened the passenger door.

The two women stood silently, faces stone, brows furrowed. (y/n) gave her a brief nod.

_Take care of my boys._

The woman nodded back before getting into the car and slamming the door.

~

“You _are_ good with her,” Axel said, watching Beth tend to the baby.

(y/n) was only half listening, resting her eyes as she leaned against the wall of the cell, Carl leaning against her as she hugged him to her around the shoulders.

Night had just fallen, and (y/n) was getting rather antsy. She knew they probably wouldn't be back until tomorrow or the next day, but as the hours had passed, the pit in her stomach grew wider and wider.

“You got any little sisters?”

“No.”

Rick had called her _his_ sister. Not outright, but he had. She’d always wanted a brother, and now that she had one, she didn’t really want to lose him right away. It also didn’t feel right being so far from Daryl. she hadn’t been apart from either of them for longer than a few hours since the incident at the farm. The whole situation didn’t feel right. She should have gone with them. She should be with them right now.

“How old are you, anyway?”

“Seventeen.”

“Seventeen... interesting.”

(y/n) cracked an eye open at that.

“You mind clarifyin’ that statement for me?” She asked sharply, the eye she’d opened now trained on the man with a deadly intensity.

He stammered, looking up at her before Carol rescued him. Almost.

“May I speak with you?”

“Me?”

She nodded briefly before motioning for (n/n) to follow as well.

The three journeyed out into the hall, leaving Carl and Beth alone with the baby. Journeying far enough away from the others, Carol turned on him, relying on (y/n) to back her up while looking threatening to drive home her point.

“What’s the problem?” he asked casually

“Stay away from her.” Carol ordered, she’d phrased it like a question, but the seething young woman with the leather jacket and the blades standing beside her made it clear to the man that it wasn’t one, “This isn’t about you trying to repopulate the earth.”

“I didn’t mean to offend, I’ve just been locked up a while, and there weren’t many women, you follow?” he tried to appease his confronters, but his comment just made (y/n)’s face scrunch up, “I mean Maggie, she’s with Glen, (n/n)’s with Daryl, and you’re a lesbian.”

Despite the tone she’d tried to set, (y/n) snorted at that, earning an elbow and a smirk from Carol.

“I’m not a lesbian,” Carol informed.

“but you’ve got the…short hair.”

(y/n) continued to hold back little snickers as Carol’s face contorted into a priceless look. This man was digging himself quite the grave.

“...You’re not a lesbian?” he asked.

 She blinked at him.

“My, my,” he continued, leaning against the banister over her, “this _is_ interesting.”

“No, it’s not.” Carol shot back, moving to walk past him. (y/n) still was still snickering. Tongue between her teeth, she followed her friend heckling her slightly.

 “Carol, If I’d known you swung that way, I’d have left Daryl ages ago, Baby.”

“(n/n), please.” Carol reprimanded, though (y/n) could hear the amusement in the woman’s tone.

~

“How much formula do we have?” Carl asked, loading a clip beside Beth.

“We have enough to last us another month” Hershel informed, moving over to stand by the stairs with them.

He seemed to be doing well. Adapting to losing the leg and moving with crutches. (y/n) was glad for it. It would have been hard having saved his life if he couldn’t live it.

“I’ll take (n/n) on a run for more at the end of the week.” Carl continued, looking over to where she stood by the sleeping infant to confirm.

“the others will be back by then.” Beth reminded

“You don’t know that. Right now, Judith is the only family I’ve got.”

Just then, a scream was heard from farther inside the prison. They debated who it could be, deciding that though it was unlikely that Carol was in trouble, they should still check it out.

Carl jumped up attempting to investigate, but Hershel held him back. It seems the older man didn’t want him going off alone.

“My father would go.” He pointed out.

His statement seemed to sway the older man, but he still looked unhappy about the decision.

“ s’alright, I’ll go with ‘em.” (y/n) added, “‘s why I stayed behind to begin with.”

She motioned for the boy, who followed after her towards the screams.

~

(y/n) took point, Shears ready as they made their way towards the gradually building screams bouncing off the dank walls of the inner prison. She relied on Carl, a few steps behind her with the flashlight and his silenced pistol to light her way and guard her back.

The cries grew louder as they made their way past the boiler room door. Carl paused, and (y/n) turned around to look at him.

He was staring up at the door, a distant look on his features. She wanted to reach for him, but a walker emerged from around the corner. It grabbed for her eagerly, but Carl swiftly took it down with a bullet before it could get anywhere close.

They looked to each other silently for a beat before moving on, more on guard than they had been before.

The screams reached fever pitch as the team turned the corner, Carl took out another walker front of a short woman with a shovel, so that (y/n) could move past her as she gasped to see who fired.

(y/n) launched herself at the next walker, burying her right blade into the skull, before turning around and using her momentum to slice clean through the head of the walker she heard behind her with the left.

The strangers stopped what they were doing to look between the two rescuers.

“Come on, hurry!” Carl ordered, running to lead the newcomers back to the cell block.

They followed the boy, and (y/n) snuck up behind a walker that pursued the biggest stranger of the group. She drove her blade through the back of its skull, watching as her shear popped up through its mouth on the other side before removing it and ushering the stragglers ahead of her retreat.

~

(y/n) was incredibly impressed. Carl had hardly needed her help while they were down there. In fact, he probably could have done it all on his own. Now, with the way he was taking precautions with these people while also providing them help and compassion.

He was maturing incredibly fast. That, or he was mimicking what he’d seen Rick do for the past year. Either way, he’d been right that day he’d asked her to stay behind on the sweep. He didn’t need her watching over him. Or anyone for that matter.

She thought about that as she paused to take a break from where she was setting up a training station on the blacktop, watching him and Carol taking up watch down the hill.

She shook her head as she continued to work, taking the tied-up sheets she’d filled with dirt. Attaching one to the rim of the basketball hoop to make a makeshift punching bag, and tying another to the backside of the pole, covering it with some of the riot gear to use as a dummy, testing the bulletproof vest against her blade, and deeming it sturdy enough to take the abuse.

She sighed, stepping back to admire her work. Aside from the dummies, She’d made a few targets that were over by the side of the building. She’d initially made them for Daryl, but now she thought to herself, if she ever found a bow, she could take up archery. Or maybe, she could flirt her way into having one made for her. If Daryl knew how to make arrows, maybe he knew how to make a bow, too.

Cracking her back, she sighed once more. With a training area set up, they were just one tiny step closer to making this a home.

She was dislodged from her thoughts when she heard the minivan drive up to the gates. A brilliant smile broke out on her face as she rushed towards the vehicle

They were back.

She could see Rick making his way back up the hill with Carol and Carl, but counting the heads coming out of the car she realized the vehicle was a few more heads short than just Rick.

Her brow furrowed deeply as she slowed, seeing Glen, Maggie, Michonne… But Oscar was missing. Furthermore (and more importantly) so was Daryl.

Maggie muttered a quiet “Shit” under her breath as she saw (y/n) had approached.

“Where-” she started hesitantly, cutting herself off to swallow thickly before she tried again, “Where is he?”

“(n/n)…” Maggie said softly.

Behind her shoulder, (y/n) saw Rick spot her and quicken his pace.

“Rick, where is he, where’s Daryl?” her voice was shaking so bad, and she could hardly see his expression through the water filling her vision like bad contacts.

She blinked, and her vision cleared as the hot tears ran down her cheeks. Rick opened and closed his mouth a few times, unsure of what to say.

“No.” she shook her head violently, looking around at the sad expressions of her friends “No!” she repeated louder and whinier, a few dropped their gaze, Maggie looked like she wanted to reach over and hug her.

 “Please, no,” she whispered one last time before she completely broke down.

Rick caught her as her legs buckled, keeping her from falling onto the pavement. She gripped him tight, wailing into his shirt without a care of who saw.

“Oh, for crying out—He’s still alive,” Glen spoke up over her desperate cries.

She pulled her puffy face from the man’s chest, Tears still streaming from her eyes without a sign of stopping. She felt Rick rub her upper arm as he guided her back inside. She allowed him to move her, as she was lost. Both emotionally, and comprehensively.

“Wh-what?” She asked weakly, her big eyes blown wide as they filled with fat tears waiting to spill over. She turned to look at the faces around her, all of them masks of pity.

“If he’s alive then where…why isn’t he…?” Rick guided her to sit on the bleachers out near her newly erected training ground.

“His brother was with ‘em. They left together.” Rick spoke softly.

Something inside (y/n) cracked, and from the splintered gap, something hot and wild and powerfully energized burned through her whole body.

“… so, what you’re sayin’ to me is,” She said lowly, stronger than it had been before, but still shaky as she continued to cry, “The second he reunited with the man who abandoned him over an’ over again, he dropped me like a hot rock?”

 “He’d said you’d understand,” Rick attempted to soothe her.

“Well, I don’t” She barked, looking up at him. “Did he say anythin’ else?”

“Just to look after you, an’ that you’d be fine without ‘im.”

She realized this heat that was coursing through her so thoroughly that it was practically radiating off of her, was rage. She’d heard people say to beware the power of a spurned woman, and now she understood what they meant. She felt like she was just hit by a truck, but she also felt like she could lift that truck over her head and chuck it into the river.

“(n/n), I’m so sorry. We tried to get him to come with us, but he refused to abandon ‘im. We couldn’t let Merle come with us, look at what he did to Glen!”

(y/n) stared at the ground. She stared so hard she thought the pavement might melt where her eyes were pointed.

“This ain’t your fault, I know that.” (y/n) assured, deathly calm sharpening her voice until it could cut through steel. “I’d like to be alone for a while if you don’t mind.” She finished finally, lifting the bottom of her shirt up to her face to wipe the remaining tears away. When she felt the burning sensation behind her eyes that promised that she wasn’t finished crying, it only served to fuel her rage.

The others moved passed her, moving to walk back into the cell block. Carol lingered behind, and (y/n) felt as Carol reached out to touch her arm and squeeze it.

“Carol, I appreciate what you’re tryin’ to do, but don’t touch me.” She hissed, roughly moving her shoulder from the older woman’s grip as she stormed away towards the dummies she’d just set up.

~

She’d spent all afternoon and well into the night training. She’d punched and kicked and sliced at the dummies until her muscles cried out for her to stop, and then she took a deep breath, and beat on them some more.

Around dusk, (y/n) was pulled from her stupor by Beth calling her name.

“Supper’s ready.”

She didn’t turn around, and she didn’t stop beating at the sack hanging from the basketball hoop.

“I ain’t exactly pleasant company right now.” (y/n) grunted, grabbing at the bag to bring in into her knee once, twice, three times before she released it, and returned to giving harsh jabs.

“That’s why I brought it out to you,” Beth replied.

(y/n) heard the clatter of brittle plastic against metal, telling her that the teen had just set a plate down on the bleachers. She gave a hum as thanks and heard the girl's boots begin to clack away. They paused a few steps into her retreat.

Beth turned back around watching as (y/n) beat at the bag ruthlessly.

“I’m pissed at him, too.” She said finally.

When (n/n) turned around to look at the other girl, she found that she was already halfway back to the cell block.

~

Morning came, and with it, the memory that Daryl was gone. The anger bubbled back up, though it wasn’t as intense this time around. She was calm enough to eat with the others, as they discussed what she’d missed while she had her little episode.

“So, they left, then.” She stated, looking out at the now empty room where their four guests had been staying until late yesterday afternoon.

“We still have one more interloper to deal with,” Rick informed from next to her as they both looked up from their food to watch as Michonne arose from the bed.

She looked significantly better than she had the night before.

“I dunno, Rick,” (y/n) disagreed, “Seems we have a common enemy. ‘tween that an’…” she paused, unable to keep the grief and the outrage down.

With a big breath, she finally continued, “an’ our… _most recent departures_ , I think we can use all the fighters we can get.”

He nodded vigorously, as if he agreed with what she was saying, but (y/n) wouldn’t have been surprised if he wasn’t listening to her at all. He'd practically been checked out since he returned, and she was getting worried for him.

~

She was training again, though with the thoughtless flow of her rhythm came ample time to think.

He’d left her. Without a goodbye, without a way to contact him or meet up. He’d just. Left. Of all the ways she feared their relationship might end, this hadn’t been one of them.

She slashed into the Kevlar, barely making a scratch as she continued to stew.

She’d thought after that first night together… talking about his family and his scars…she thought after all that, he wouldn’t fall into the trap again, but apparently, she’d been wrong. The second he spotted the shimmering teeth of the steel jaw; he’d launched himself right back in and forgot about her.

“he said I’d understand,” She muttered under her breath, slashing again, resulting in a tear forming in the side of the bag. The soil began to pour out.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

She spun in a circle, bringing her leg up to land a crescent kick across the helmet attached to the bag. It flew off, landing a bit behind her.

She stared at it as it spun in place on the pavement before she ran up to it, and kicked it again, watching as it flew over the inner fence, and bounced off the outer fence’s barbed wire to land in the stretch between them. feeling a little better she raised the object in her hand to throw that too before she realized, it was her shear. With a heavy sigh, she dropped it.

The loud clatter that resulted from it’s decent almost blocked out the person who spoke.

(y/n) whipped around, spying Michonne behind her. She was waiting for the answer to the question that (y/n) had barely heard.

“What?” she spat in a harsh deadpan.

“I said; is that making you feel better?” Michonne repeated.

She turned fully around to face her new companion, and after looking her over, she answered, “Yes. A little…” at The woman’s raised eyebrows, she sighed, “No, actually, not really.”

(y/n) moved around the hoop, to sit in the shade against the building’s wall. The bricks were cool against her back. She was still upset, but the anger was mostly gone. She just felt tired and miserable, now. There was silence. She felt Michonne watching her. Observing, perceiving, accessing… It made (n/n) itch all over. A change of subject was in order. She nodded towards the sword slung over Michonne’s shoulder.

“I like your weapon. Where’d you find it?”

The other woman obliged the topic, moving to stand directly in front of (y/n).

“An abandoned karate studio. You’d be surprised what you can find there, not a lot of people think to loot them.”

“Huh. Interestin’.”

There was silence again, and (y/n) closed her eyes, enjoying the shade for a bit. She hadn’t realized how hot and sweaty she’d become out in the sun.

“You and that Daryl guy… you were intimate.” Michonne said, attempting to converse again.

(y/n) snarled, “I don’t want to talk about him. It’s none of your business, anyway.”

“I’m just offering up some friendly advice.”

(y/n) glared up at the woman, getting frustrated and huffy again. She didn’t really know what she wanted, but she knew she didn’t want advice, she didn’t want help, and she didn’t want pity. “Listen here, I don’t know what you think you can say that’ll-”

“you should take a pregnancy test.”

She froze in her tracks at that, anger vanishing from her once again as she stared up at the other woman.

“We… we were careful; we used protection.” Well, all but the night that Judith was born. they’d been a little caught up in the moment that night, though she wasn’t eager to share that bit.

“Condoms break. And expire.” Michonne supplied evenly, “Are you late?”

(y/n) tried to think. Was she? She might be. It was hard keeping track these days. “I uhm...” She scrunched her eyes closed, processing what this woman was saying to her, “I don’t eat as often as I should these days. If I am, that could be why.”

Michonne nodded, her tone and face softening as she watched the understanding and fear worm it’s way into the features of the woman on the ground.

“All I’m saying is, your group’s already got one baby to worry about, and with your boyfriend out of the picture…You should make sure.”

(y/n) sighed, suddenly feeling anxious as she got up from the ground. “Well, what are you suggestin’? It’s not like we got a test on hand, Glen’s already proven he can’t keep pregnancy scares secret, an’ Rick would never let me go out on a run by myself.”

Michonne moved to the pavement where the woman’s blade had been dropped and placed it back into her grip before pulling her towards the front gates. “Rick’s barely focused on what’s going on two feet in front of him right now. You could be gone a week, and I doubt he’d even notice. Go. There’s a town within walking distance if you just keep that way.” She informed, pointing (y/n) in the direction of the woods opposite the river.

Together they opened the gates leading to the world outside. (y/n) moved to start jogging in the direction she’d been pointed towards but paused to look back. “Why are you doin’ this? Gettin’ involved an’ helpin’ me?”

There was a long, pregnant pause before she got her answer.

“I was in your shoes once. He didn’t physically leave me; he was bit, but I was alone afterward all the same.” Her voice wavered, refusing to give any more detail. (y/n) felt it best not to press.

She nodded back at the woman, her only communication of thanks as she rushed off.


	23. No One's Mama

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader makes her way into town, and makes some discoveries. Some good, others a little disappointing.

Michonne had been right on the money. (y/n) was only walking about an hour when she began to spot buildings peaking out from the trees. Quickening her pace, she emerged from the woods, spotting a small strip mall across the road she'd just stepped onto. A few restaurants, a GameStop, a Sears, and a small mom and pop pharmacy. she scanned the parking lot and made her way through the jungle of cars. Steps silent, ears open for walkers. She’d made it there without issue, but peeking inside, she could make out a few walkers standing around in the aisles, as well as a pair of feet sticking out from underneath a tipped over shelf.

She opened the door slowly, reaching up on her tiptoes to just barely grab the bell at the top of the door to keep it from ringing.

Staying low she wormed her way through the aisles, pausing first to examine the one that was trapped. It wasn’t moving, but she wasn’t about to take chances. She embedded her Rambo knife into the base of its skull.

Even as she was killing walkers, she found little ways to remind herself of him. The knife felt heavier in her hand as the memory of Daryl giving it to her on the Greene’s porch resurfaced. She shook the thoughts from her head. Now was not the time to focus on the past.

She’d easily snuck behind one of the other creatures, but the final one caught sight of her and moved it’s way towards her as she dealt with the one in front of her.

The final walker lunged, and (y/n) felt herself start to fall back. She placed her forearm under the things chin, placing one of her feet back behind her, using the stance to propel forward and lodge the knife up through the mouth of the corpse. (y/n) released her breath, cleaning the blade off on her jeans before putting it away and starting her hunt.

She scoured the shelves desperately, finally coming across a box at the back of the store. (y/n) looked around and, spotting a restroom a little way away, made a desperate b-line. Once she’d checked each of the stalls thoroughly, she clawed open the box only pausing to skim the instructions before following them.

~

She felt like she’d been waiting for hours, but the test still wasn’t finished processing. With a huff, she placed the test back on the bathroom sink and decided to have a look around. She might actually find something useful, and it’d take her mind off the agonizing wait.

After pacing through the shelves for a spell, (y/n) found herself climbing over the pharmaceutical counter to take a look in the back. The place had been well and thoroughly looted, but she’d managed to find a few unclaimed prescriptions for antibiotics that almost had her breaking out into song. Nothing else really caught her eye, though she did find a backpack in one of the employee lockers that she promptly dropped the pills into before climbing back over the counter.

It had to be ready now, right?

Her breathing was suddenly shallow at the thought, and she began to wonder if she really wanted to find out for sure. She found herself taking her sweet time browsing the shelves for anything else useful on her way back to the ladies’ room. She’d found a few boxes of tampons, some razor blades, but nothing overly special. The place was picked clean somewhere near the start of the apocalypse. Everything that was worth taking was already gone, or in her bag, and she had no more time to stall.

With a deep breath, she pushed the ladies room door back open.

The test was right where she left it, and somehow, she found herself surprised. Like she thought that maybe while she was gone, it would have been taken, or thrown away, or simply sprouted legs and made a run for it, but no. there it was, right where she’d left it.

She paced in front of the mirrors a few more times, pausing every so often to look at it before the hook in her stomach finally pulled her towards the test. She picked it up, eyes closed as she lifted it up to eye level.

“Alright, (n/n), alright. Don’t be a pussy, just fuckin’ look. One, two…”

On three she forced her eyes open and took a second to comprehend what she was seeing.

Negative.

Her brain was still catching up, even though she now knew. She wasn’t pregnant.

Shouldn’t she be happy? Relieved? Yeah, probably. But here she was, oddly… disappointed.

She exited the store shortly after, choosing to wander the town a bit instead of head right back to the prison.  So that was it, then. He was gone, she wasn’t carrying his child, there nothing left to connect them across the distance.

It was really over.

She swallowed, biting back more tears. What’s done is done, she can’t stop the world just to mourn anymore. She’d watched friends die right in front of her and cried less than she’d cried over Daryl. He wasn’t even dead; he was just being an asshole.

She kicked at a rock on the ground, vaguely registering the roar of an engine coming towards her. She looked up, spotting something growing bigger over the horizon reflecting sunlight in her direction. A big, white, hummer. It wasn’t one of her people’s, which meant it probably belonged to someone from Woodberry.

In a panic she looked around for a place to hide, spotting a small building sporting the words ‘Georgia Martial Arts’. What was it that Michonne said? No one thought to loot them?

She hurried inside, managing to slip into the building and sink down out of view just in time for the car to roar past the building.

She choked on the breath she released once she realized she wasn’t quite alone. Four adult walkers turned from a seating area on the other side of the matted Dojo to look at her, while two children dressed in gis and little white belts rushed towards her place on the ground.

She bit back a cry as she forcibly kicked the closest one back while grabbing the other one by the belt and lodging her shear in its head.

They were so tiny. When they were alive, they would have been so cute. This world was so unfair to children… oh, awesome. Now she was thinking about the fact that she wasn’t having a child, again.

The other one was taken out just as swiftly before she moved to dance around the four that were left. Wrapping one in a hold under her arm, she planted a blade through the top of its skull, kicking another in the face, and getting the third one in the kneecap, watching as it buckled to its knees.

Dodging under the fourth one’s arms, (y/n) moved behind it, yanking on its shoulders and planting her foot in its knee pit to throw it to the floor. She promptly stomped the face in with a single, clean, ax kick.

Readying both her Shears, she sprung at the two remaining walkers, impaling both of them at once, before pulling her arms to cross, slicing cleanly through the skulls.

She breathed heavily, returning the shears to their place on her thighs as she looked around. Michonne had been right, the place was practically untouched if the fine layer of dust on everything was any indication. A closet door was spotted on the far wall, and she jogged across the dojo to pull it open, only to wretch at the smell once she did.

Another walker sat on the floor, a Chinese straight sword sticking out of its stomach. A self-inflicted wound on the sensei of the dojo. The thing struggled to its feet, but not before (y/n) had the time to place her foot on its chest and pull out the sword, so she could bury it between the corpse’s eyes.

The blade shattered from the force of the blow, having corroded after spending so long stewing in the walker’s stomach. A shame, it would have been a nice weapon to have around.

After the walker was dealt with, she was able to scour the shelves.

A bag of stuffed animals (she assumed they corresponded to the different animal fighting styles they taught), a small Buddha statue, some bo staffs… well, hello. A pair of shiny, silver sai, a few daggers, a big unopened pack of water bottles and several boxes of oatmeal and cereal bars.

Michonne was a genius.

She tucked what she could into her new backpack. After a pause, she took the sai, and tucked them into each of her boots, letting the prongs on either end of the extended point hang over the edge of her shoes to keep the weapons in place. The rest of the dojo didn’t have much, just a few rolls of paper towels, a first aid kit, hand soap, it wasn’t much, but it was certainly too much to carry back by herself.

Looking around for an idea, she spotted a purse, still slung over the shoulder of one of the walkers she’d fought earlier. Moving to it and digging around, she managed to find a pair of car keys. If she was very, very lucky…

Clicking the button, she turned to watch as one of the cars out front began to flash its lights to signal it was now unlocked.


	24. Parting Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the next few chapters are gonna be... rough. keep some tissues handy, friends.

(y/n) nearly slammed on the breaks when she took in the state of the outermost fences. The metal was bent and jagged, the gates having been ripped off their hinges. Walkers filled the field and were beginning to move towards her recently acquired dodge neon.

What the hell happened? She turns her back for five minutes…well okay, she was gone a few hours—but still the minute she leaves all hell breaks loose.

She really, really hoped everyone was alright. Spotting the truck out in the middle of the grass, (y/n) connected the dots easily; Woodberry did this. The hummer she’d hid from was most definitely full of the thugs that did this to her home. She grits her teeth forcefully. First, they kidnap her family, then, they steal her boyfriend, and now this shit.

Carl was at the gates to the prison. He had heavy artillery drawn but once he saw (n/n) behind the wheel, the boy visibly relaxed as he began moving quickly to let her in before the walkers could catch up to the car.

“What happened?” (y/n) asked immediately, stepping out of the vehicle and wrapping Carl in a hug that the boy happily returned.

“The Governor came. Drove a truck-full of walkers into our gates and shot at us. Axel didn’t make it.” He supplied

Shit. Carol seemed to have been getting closer to Axel, despite their incredibly bumpy start.

“Is everyone else alright?” she urged, following him into C block

“Yeah, we’re safe, but there’s something you should know before you enter,” He urged hesitantly, stopping and tugging on her arm to keep her from going through the door, “you’re gonna freak out.”

~

She paused in the doorway, staring at an unfamiliar silhouette as she heard the others continue to argue for a stretch. She hadn’t alerted the others to her and Carl’s presence just yet.

“If Rick says we’re staying, we’re staying.” She heard Glen’s voice from the other side of the bars.

“No, better to live like rats.” Said the stranger, as he leaned lazily over the bars separating him from the cells.

“You got a better idea?” Rick.

“Yeah, we should have slid out of here hours ago, lived to fight another day.”

Another voice chimed in at that. It was painfully familiar. She’d been warned of his return, but she still wasn’t fully prepared.

“We ain’t leavin’ ‘till we find (n/n), if we’re even leavin’ at all. That’s just that.” His tone was matter-of-fact, but she could hear the anxiety underneath. The worry.

Fuck him, he didn’t get to be concerned about her being missing. He didn’t get to talk about finding her like she mattered to him. He’s already proven that she didn’t.

“well we _can’t_ leave now; we missed that window. I reckon he’s got scouts along every stretch of road leading out of here.” The stranger, again. She supposed he must be Merle.

The way he spoke--like he thought he had the biggest dick in the room--pissed (y/n) off even more than the fact that he’s the reason for all her heartache.

There was a growl from inside the cells: “If (n/n)’s out there, she’s in trouble, then. We gotta go out there, we gotta-”

Carl took the opportunity to speak up, walking to stand beside the man in the cells with them.

“She’s fine. She’s right behind me.” Carl announced, cutting off Daryl’s angry demands.

Rick stormed up to the cell block door, staring her down with a fuming expression as she approached from the other side of the bars.

“Where was she?” he phrased it to someone else, but his eyes never left her, clearly wanting her to explain herself.

“She just rolled up to the gates in a beat-up car. She was outside the fences.” Carl supplied.

(y/n) could see the smoke pouring out of his ears. So much for being too checked out to notice. He continued to stare her down, and she met the gaze. She tried to make it as clear as possible that she was repentant without removing her set expression. If she allowed herself to display how she was feeling, she’d never be able to keep a calm look when she finally saw Daryl again.

“Merle, back away from the door so she can get in.” Rick ordered.

Merle clicked his tongue, leaning farther against the bars. “Don’t be like that sheriff, why don’t you just let us both in. we’re all friends here, right Kitten?” he asked, with a jeering tone, turning to give her a once over and a wink.

Disgusting.

“I won’t ask you twice.” Rick growled.

He wouldn’t have to.

Without bothering to react or respond to Merle’s actions, she placed the palm of her hand over his forehead and pushed in a circular motion as she swept one of his legs out from under him. He fell quick and hard, giving (y/n) and Carl ample time to step around him through the now opened door.

“Shit, Girlie, you don’t mess around,” she heard from behind her. she imagined he was struggling to stand back up what with his missing hand, she didn’t bother to turn around and look.

She kept her eyes forward, not really meeting anyone’s gaze until Rick grabbed her arm and spun her around to look at him.

“What the hell was that?” Rick spat. “You didn’t say you were leavin’, and I didn’t say you could go. We could have used you back here when the Governor showed up, but you were off doing God knows what. You’re supposed to be responsible, (n/n), I’m supposed to be able to rely on you. What was so important that you just had to leave?”

“It was somethin’ personal. I was offered some good advice, an’ I took it,” (y/n) supplied vaguely. “I’ll explain it to you later. In private. I know it was stupid not to tell you, I regretted it as soon as I was out there, but it was important. It won’t be happenin’ again, believe me.”

She uttered the last part under her breath as she finally chanced a glance up at Daryl. His scowl gave away nothing, but his eyes spoke of relief and affection.

She looked away quickly.

“It better not,” Rick growled close to her face.

She didn’t flinch. She never flinched.

Hershel took the opportunity to speak up, suggesting that now that everyone was back, they should leave.

So far as (y/n) could tell, Hershel had been laying into him even more than she had, and Rick seemed to be tired of it. It wasn’t long before he was storming off and Hershel was yelling after him.

~

Michonne caught her, as she was unloading the vehicle. She took the pack of water bottles from (y/n)’s arms and allowed her to pick up and carry a few other things before moving back inside.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” she asked softly

“Yeah, I did.”

“And?” It sounded like Michonne was on edge, seemingly just as nervous for her as (y/n) had been for herself

“I’m not. Everythin’s fine”

At her reply, the other woman relaxed as much as she could with the strain of what she was carrying.

“That’s good,” she sighed, “I’m sure Daryl will be relieved.”

(y/n) scoffed, shifting the weight in her arms to a more stable position “I’m sure he would be If I ever told ‘im, which I’m not inclined to do. I’m not pregnant, he doesn’t need to know that I thought I might be.”

Michonne eyes her at the harsh tone to her voice, “It’s a bad idea to keep secrets from your partner, believe me. If you plan on explaining the situation to Rick, you should explain it to him, too. If he hears it from someone else-”

“That’s just it, Michonne,” (y/n) bit off, “He’s not my partner anymore. I don’t have to tell ‘im jack shit. Leavin’ me the way he did was him breakin’ up with me so far as I’m concerned.” She stopped in the middle of the yard, her tone softening with sadness when she added, “We’re broken up.”

Michonne looked about to say something else, pity evident in her eyes. It was in everyone’s eyes when they looked at her. They didn’t know the specifics of why she’d chosen to go AWOL, but they all correctly guessed that it had something to do with Daryl. She was sick of the looks, and she was sick of talking about it.

“Don’t look at me like that, I don’t need your sympathy. What’s done is done. I’m finished with it,” she spat. suddenly, she felt like she wasn't just speaking about Daryl, "I'm finished with all of it."

~

Once the supplies were fully unloaded and brought into the prison, Rick seemed less upset. (y/n) knew she needed to face the music, it was now or never.  She approached him at the table, examining the supplies from her impromptu run.

Merle sat idly in the corner, eyeing the exchange like it was the latest episode of his favorite show. The prick.

“Where’d you find all this” Rick asked, not bothering to look over at her as she removed her backpack from her shoulders and began unzipping it.

“A drug store… an’ then a dojo. Michonne mentioned she got her sword from one, an’ that no one ever thought to loot ‘em. By the way, do you think Judith would like a Dragon or a Tiger better? She asked, holding the two plushies she’d taken from the studio closet, holding them up to him and moving them as if they were on opposite sides of a scale as her eyebrows rose.

Despite her previous bitterness at having the Dixons back, she’d found the heart to joke around. If she pretended that she wasn’t upset; if she pretended that she was fine, maybe she would be.

Though Rick still seemed rather angry with her, understandably, he gave her a small smile as the took the plushies from her hands to inspect them. “Where’d you find these?” he asked softly.

“The dojo. A lot of fightin’ styles and principals are modeled an’ named after animals. There were quite a few. Maybe the instructor used them for teachin’ the little ones. There was a snake, a crane, an' a monkey, too, I think.” She shrugged, petting behind the tiger toy’s ear.

“Why’d you pick just these then?”

She looked up at him and shrugged. “I dunno, I guess at the time I just thought…If I had a baby, those were the ones I’d pick out for ‘em.” She was melancholy, and the quiet sadness in her voice shown through.

“(n/n), why were you out there?” Rick asked softly, eyeing her with suspicion.

She looked over his shoulder to Merle, who was still watching the whole thing, straining to listen to what was being said. Shaking her head, (y/n) grabbed his arm and moved to the far corner, lowering her voice even farther.

“I…Michonne came to talk to me after Daryl left. I was pretty moody an’ upset, an’… She gave me some advice about goin’ an’ taken a pregnancy test seein’ as I was on my own now, so to speak.”

She watched as his eyes widened, understanding dawning in his features. His hand came to rub over his face as he began stepping from foot to foot, leaning forward and continuing the hushed conversation. “So that’s why you left?”

“Yeah, I know it was stupid, I should have told you I was leavin’ at the very least, but there were a few things happenin’ that painted a worryin’ picture, an’ I was scared. Don’t be mad, I just-”

He cut her off quick, nervously checking her over and eyeing her stomach.

 “Did you find one?”

“Yeah.”

“The results?”

“…Negative.”

He seemed relieved at first, all the tension leaving his body as his lips pulled into a slight grin, then he got a look at her face. She was disappointed, what could she say? She knew she’d claimed over and over that she didn’t want one, but she’d had a lot of time to think about it as she’d trekked through the woods, and by the time she took the test she felt like she’d just lost something she hadn’t even been given. (y/n) wasn’t going to cry over it. It was nothing to cry over. In fact, it was a good thing. One less mouth to feed, one less fighter out of commission, she wouldn’t have to worry about slowing the others down or dying from complications… but still, her brows were furrowing just thinking about the whole thing. She felt Rick start to pull her into a hug and she reciprocated, clutching at the back of his shirt tightly. “It’s alright, (n/n). It’ll be fine. You’re alright.” It was the softest she’d seen him in a good long while. It was nice to know he could still be gentle.

They removed themselves from the hug, (y/n) taking the opportunity to take a big breath and center herself. “Those plushies aren’t the only gift. I got somethin’ for Carl, too. Know where I can find him?”

“He went back out to the guard tower. ‘least that’s what he told Carol before he pushed passed ol’ Merle. Rude little thing needs to learn his manners.” Came the gravel-filled drawl from across the room.

(y/n) glared at him, not even having to try to put venom into her stare. Just looking at him gave her the harshest sneer.

She stepped around Rick, and out the door, hearing a cocky, “Was it somethin' I said?” calling after her.

~

She found him exactly where Merle said he’d be; up in the guard tower, looking through the scope of a weapon to the forest past the fence.

“What are you doin’?” (y/n) asked casually, stepping up beside him

“Looking to spot anyone in the trees.” He stated. His tone was serious, calm, even.

This wasn’t the same little boy that clung to his mother at the farm, and (y/n) was proud, if not a little sad that his childhood had been cut so short.

“so, out at that dojo I ransacked, there were these beautiful weapons. They’re called sai. They’re a bit different than the shears are, but I can get some good use out of ‘em.” She stated casually, leaning over the railing, looking out at the tree line with him.

“and?” he asked, curious as to why she would tell him something like that out of nowhere.

“Well, it’s just, We’ve been doin’ weapon trainin’ recently, an’ you’ve gotten pretty good with the blades an’ all…” She started casually, moving to unstrap the holstered shears from her thighs. The pleather was worn and broken in, now. And holding the sheathed blades in her hands, she had the chance to run over the stitching on them. when she’d found the extra fabric in the Greene’s sewing room, she’d asked Carol to make them into something that she could use to hold her weapons. They were makeshift but sturdy.

“An’ you don’t got any sort of weapon ‘cept that pistol, I figured… These ol’ girls could suit you as well as they suited me.”

She held them out to the boy, squeezing them a bit. She knew she wanted to give them to him, but still, she’d been through so much with them. It was hard to part with them.  Carl looked down at the blades hesitantly, as if she’d just offered him her left kidney.

“Are you sure?” he asked breathlessly.

At her nod, he took them gingerly, rubbing his thumb over the smooth material. He quickly moved to strap them to his legs, before looking up at her, silently asking her how they looked on him. She smiled brightly back. “How do they feel? I got used to the weight, but I know it can be a little awkward at first. The straps aren’t too tight, right?”

She would have kept fussing, but he cut her off with a call of her name, “They’re great.” He hugged her tightly, giving her his thanks. She laughed, flicking at the brim of his hat.

She was glad he was happy, and she didn’t regret her decision. Still, without the blades, she felt… naked.

But sometimes, you have to part with things you love to help someone else; part with them so you can move forward.


	25. Update

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just a quick check in.

Hi guys! I'll be posting something later tonight, around 11pm -12 am eastern time, I just want to check in with you all.  
I know where I want to take this fic moving on from here, and I know where I want to finish it, I just have one little issue that I wanted to share with you all. At one point I have two ideas about how to proceed with the plot, but I don't know which to take. they both end with the same conclusion, but one path is a lot fluffier, and the other is a lot angstier, and has more chapters about a developing friendship between two characters. I just wanted to see what story path you'd prefer to read, the fluffy one or the angsty one. You don't have to answer right away, and you don't have to see this right away because it won't come up for, I want to say, five or six more chapters, but I can't decide because I really like both story points.

Fluff or Angst, guys?


	26. Spilled milk and past misdeeds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl's back, but the reader's not happy to see him.

(y/n) could hear Merle talking from her position farther in the cell block. It was clear he was speaking to Michonne, his tone borderline perverse. She didn’t know the woman too well, but she kind of wanted to be Michonne’s friend. Though with how quiet and distant the woman is, piled on with how focused (y/n)’d been on her own issues, she hadn’t had the chance to properly converse with the samurai passed the few times they’d talked about the pregnancy scare. Perhaps this’d be her chance, so long as she didn’t have to speak to Merle before she rescued Michonne, she should be fine.

With a sigh, she got up from her perch and made her way into the side room of the cellblock. Michonne sat on the floor doing crunches while Merle leaned against the table, yapping and eyeing her with probably the most disgusting look (y/n) had ever seen in a man’s eyes.

“Michonne, hi.” She started casually.

The woman looked at her, eyebrows furrowed, as if she suspected (y/n) was there to piss in her cereal.

“I was just sorta wonderin’ if you wanted to come train with me out on the blacktop. I set up a pretty nice trainin’ area recently, and I can promise both the view an’ the company will be better than what you’ve got in here, so…” she smiled, letting her speech drift off after her offer was made.

Michonne seemed to smile minutely as she jumped to her feet, “let me grab my sword. I’ll meet you out there.”

Merle eyed her up, “Mm, looks like Michonne got herself a new little girlfriend, huh?” he licked his lower lip as she began to glare him down.

“No need to look at me that way, Sweetheart, I’m on your side now. Don’t gotta be angry over spilled milk an’ past misdeeds.” He called this after her once she’d turned to leave.

This got her to pause in the doorway, looking over her shoulder at him before she decided to finally speak.

“I’m not angry ‘cause you beat up Glen.” She said coldly. She was deathly quiet, but her tone cut harsher than if she’d been screaming.

“Oh, no?” He asked in an amused tone, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrows.

“I’m not mad that you used to be the Governor’s pet, either. I’m mad, ‘cause Daryl left me. For you.”

The smirk wiped right off his face. Seeing the shift in expressions from over her shoulder, she turned fully around to face him once again.

“You, the man who—for most of his life—left him alone with an abusive and habitually drunk father. The man who when he _was_ around, physically and verbally beat on him to the point that for a month, Daryl pretended to have been so drunk he forgot our first night together, ‘cause he thought he wasn’t good enough.”

She watched him begin to frown, pouting at the floor as he listened to her bitter words. 

“The people in here; we take care of him, an’ he returns the favor twofold, maybe even threefold. We’re his family, an’ we love ‘im _so much_.” She felt hot, angry tears slide down her face as Merle looked back up.

He seemed like a deer caught in the headlights as he took in her grief-stricken features: the anger scrunching up her nose, the hurt in her eyes, and the tear tracks down her face…

The man was dumbstruck and rendered speechless for the first time since (y/n) had met him. He couldn’t say a single thing in his own defense, which--good.

(y/n) hated how weak, and wobbly and hurt her voice sounded when she spoke her next sentence.

“I love him _so much_.”

She paused, sobbing slightly as she tried to collect herself, finally managing to wipe the tears from her face, “But you’re his blood kin, an’ somewhere, in that warped mind that _you_ helped shape, he thinks that means somethin’.”

She wiped the final tear from her face with the pad of her thumb as she looked him dead in the eyes, watching something akin to shame take over the elder Dixon’s features.

“So, congratulations. You get to keep ‘im.”

She turned to leave and completely halted in her efforts to storm off. In the doorway right behind her, was Daryl Dixon himself. He had a look very similar to his brother’s: guilty, and sad, and altogether unable to soothe the heartache of the woman he was staring at.

She looked down at the floor, feeling fresh tears spring to her eyes.

“Princess…” he started, reaching for her, trying to get her to look back at him.

she recoiled from his touch altogether.

“Don’t!” She barked immediately, before looking back up at him.

She could see her reflection in the eyes of the man in front of her. eyes red and puffy, gaze hurt and betrayed.

“Please,” she whispered, softer; weaker, “Don’t call me that.”

And then she was moving passed him, out of the cellblock, or at least trying to. She felt Daryl’s iron grip on her arm as he dragged her back through the room an up the stairs to the landing. Michonne made confused eye contact as they passed her, and (y/n) just nodded, letting the woman know she was still going out to the yard.

~

(y/n) was pretending the others had all gone deaf for the duration of the argument, but she knew they were probably all sitting together on the bottom floor not making eye contact with each other as they heard the broken couple yelling.

“I’m sorry, (n/n), what more do you want me to say?” Daryl shouted, voice angry, but he couldn’t mask the desperation in his eyes.

“I don’t want you to say fuckin’ anythin’. I get you’re sorry, but what you don’t seem to get it that sorry ain’t good enough.” She yelled back, pushing him as hard as she could.

He didn’t even budge.

“I sat here, thinkin’ you an’ Rick were gonna ride in like you always do, with Glen an’ Maggie safe, an’ the issue dealt with, but instead, you didn’t come back at all. I didn’t get a ‘goodbye’, or a ‘meet me here by tomorrow if you wanna come with me’ or even an ‘it’s not you, it’s me’. All I get is Rick tellin’ me you thought I’d understand. Well, I don’t understand! I don’t!”

(y/n)’s voice wavered significantly, and she hated herself for it. She was not. She wasn’t going to break down over a man. Not twice in the same day. Definitely not when that man’s brother was downstairs probably smirking to himself.

“Just. Just tell me why? Why did you go with ‘im? Why did you leave me for ‘im?” She whispered.

“Because he’s my blood.” He answered he seemed tired of answering that question. You’d think, if he’d been asked it so many times, he’d realize his answer was unsatisfactory, and he’d come up with a new one. Guess not.

“That’s not good enough, try again.”

“He’s my brother, (n/n)!” he spat incredulously.

“ _Rick_ is your brother! _Glen_ is your brother! That man down there is your _keeper!_ Try. Again.” She raised her voice to match, though it was unsteady and full of cracks.

“Because… because I don’t know, alright? Glen said he was in Woodberry, an’ suddenly I was thirteen again, an’ he was fresh outta juvie, tellin’ me we’d get outta Georgia. See the world. I guess I forgot that the next day he left without me, not even a ‘goodbye’ an’ I was stuck alone in that damn house again. An’ I….” he trailed off, frustration draining from him as he came to a dawning realization, “I did the same thing to you, didn’t I? Princess, I’m so sorry.”

He moved to reach for her, but she backed up, out of his reach.

“let me fix this. I ain’t leavin’ you again, I promise.”

(y/n) sighed, audibly, and long.

“Everyone leaves, Lover. The only way to keep ‘em from doin’ it is to leave them first.”

She moved to exit the conversation, but he grabbed her arm. He didn’t say anything else, but when she looked back, his eyes were pleading.

“Don’t worry, Daryl. I’m not endin’ things,” she could see it. The small bit of hope in his eyes. It felt cruel to crush it, but honestly, she kind of wanted to be.

 “you already did that by leavin’.”

His grip slacked, and she took the opportunity to retrieve her hand, softly making her way down the stairs. As she made her way out towards the yard, she passed the rest of the group. Carol seemed to want to talk to her, and everyone else glanced at her with pity. Save Merle. Bastard wouldn’t even look at her.

She stopped in front of him, but he wouldn’t move his eyes from the floor.

_Look at me, Coward._

He still wouldn’t budge, so she just huffed and brushed passed him towards her destination. She’d kept Michonne waiting long enough.

~

 She breathed in the spring air as she walked off into the yard. In the distance, she could already see Michonne training with some of the dummies she’d made. When the other woman spied (y/n) emerging from the building, she paused; She shielded her eyes, watching her approach.

(y/n) took a big, steadying breath, and felt herself hiccup from the aftershocks of her tantrum. She let it out slowly and evenly, making her way towards the samurai waiting for her out on the blacktop.

“Did you and Daryl talk things out?” She asked casually, slicing at the air with her sword.

(y/n) bent to remove her new weapons form her boots, twirling them experimentally in her hands. It’d been a long time since she’d held weapons like the ones she had now. She curled her thumb over one of the outside prongs, letting the weapon spin to be held in a backward grip, watching the sunlight bounce off the shiny metal.

“We did.” (y/n) answered flatly.

There was an unspoken question in the air. It was clear Michonne wanted to know more, but she wasn’t going to ask for it.

“We settled things. I got my answers, an’ my closure. Can focus on other things, now. Like this Governor jerkoff.”

Michonne sheathed the blade in her hands, setting it down near the bleachers before moving towards (n/n) in a fighting stance. In response, the other woman placed the blades down and squared up to her opponent.

“That’s it? You seemed so… What little I saw of you two made it seem like you were happy.” She took a short jab that (y/n) swatted away.

“We were.” A few more light blows were traded as they circled each other.

“So then-”

“He left me.” She spat angrily, throwing a roundhouse kick to the side of Michonne’s face. The woman blocked it with her arm, pushing the leg away. (y/n) use the momentum to throw a spinning back fist that landed with a light smack against Michonne’s opposite cheek. They weren’t going all out, the blows were just enough to know that they hit, and so when the uppercut to the stomach was delivered, (y/n) only let out a harsh breath. She was certain, had it been full force, she would have dropped like a breathless, gasping rock.

“an’ not,” she said breathlessly, backing up from the blow, “in the way most do. It was his own choice. I’m not the type of woman to just run right back into the arms of a man just because he shows up in her life again. I’ve got at least some respect for myself.”

She blocked at a punch, only to be pulled into an armlock by the other woman. Her breath caught in her throat, feeling her back pressed against the opponent behind her. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t attracted to this woman, but still, even after ending things with Daryl, and all her shouting about not wanting to get back together, it felt wrong. Like a betrayal to even think about someone else.

“What pisses me off more than him leavin’,” she continued, using leverage to toss the woman behind her and release herself from the hold. She backed up a bit to let them reset, “Is that I’m still glad he’s back. That he’s alright, and that I got to see ‘im again.”

She shook her head, “Shit, I’m such an idiot.”

“Nah,” Michonne negated, standing, but not reengaging.

As she heard the woman speak, (y/n) let herself relax, lowering her guard as she heard Michonne say, “you’re just human.”

“Yeah, an’ as a human, I can only take so much of this.” (y/n) shook her head, catching her breath after the fight she just had. “yeah, he’s back, an’ yeah, he seems to want to stay together, but I’ll always know that if he had to choose between me an’ Merle, he ain’t pickin’ me, an’ that… sucks. So does all the looks I keep gettin’ from everyone else, an’… well, I just can’t stand to be here with it all!”

Before Michonne could even respond, Carl called to them as he ran towards the cell block.

“Head to the gate!” he called quickly, not stopping to explain further.

The two women looked at each other before peering out towards the field. At the gate, she could see a blonde with a walker on a grabber, yelling to be let in.

She’d heard Andrea had made it out. Hell, she’d seen it with her own eyes, but she never thought she’d be seeing the woman again. She sighed, moving to where Carl had suggested she head, muttering a “That dumbass.” As she went.

~

As soon as she’d been rather roughly frisked, and escorted into the building, the group began to catch up.

Carol and Andrea shared a hug, and after a tense, unsure glance, (y/n) opened her arms and allowed the woman to hug her as well.

They’d sort of patched their differences before, though they were still on rough terrain when all hell broke loose. None of that mattered now. They found each other again, and they were hardly the same people they’d been at the farm if Andrea had had as rough a winter as the rest of them.

“I saw you, runnin’ away from the farm with all the guns,” (y/n) chuckled.

Andrea pulled back in shock, “What?”

“I was left behind, too.” She rubbed at her neck sheepishly, “I wanted to call out to you, but your gunfire was so loud, and If I made a peep, I would’ve had every walker in a ten-foot radius crawlin’ up my ass. I’m sorry.”

Andrea told her not to be as she pulled her back in for a tighter hug.

When they finally separated, she looked about, spotting Hershel’s leg, and staring around the prison with big eyes.

“Where’s Shane?” She asked innocently.

That’s right, she was gone before she found out what happened. The silent room answered her question easily enough, “and Lori?”

“She had a girl. Lori didn’t survive. Neither did T-Dog.” Hershel supplied sadly.

Andrea tried to express condolences, but what could she say, really? It was no secret that she and Lori had tiffed quite often. Instead, she chose to change the subject. “You all live here?”

Glen answered in the affirmative, saying they also had the cell block, but when she tried to get a look Rick stood in her way.

“I’m not an enemy, Rick.” She hassled

“We had that field and courtyard until your boyfriend tore down the fence with a truck and shot us up.” He answered accusatorily.

“He said you fired first.” Andrea defended

“No, he had Glen an’ Maggie _kidnapped an’ tortured_ first.” (y/n) spat. She wasn’t mad at Andrea, just at the situation.

“He shot and killed one of the prisoners that survived here.” Hershel continued.

“We liked him; he was one of us.” Daryl, adding on.

“I didn’t know anything about that.” Andrea was deflecting the blame, obviously not wanting the repercussions of the side she chose to fall on her shoulders.

(y/n) sighed, shaking her head. She couldn’t have it both ways. She made her bed, she had to lay in it. If she thought she could show up and be one of them after spending god knows how long literally sleeping with the enemy and not have her motives questioned then she obviously didn’t know how the world worked these days. Once a dumbass, always a dumbass.

Still, (y/n) was glad to see her. She was just full of emotional turmoil these days, she mused idly as she found herself staring over at Daryl. She watched as he subtly moved his gaze over to look back at her as well. when he found her gaze, he held it. She looked away first, but she could still feel his eyes on her.

(y/n) moved back to lean against some of the caging at the side of the room, feeling Michonne’s presence behind her as the woman leaned her arm against the same structure supporting (n/n). The back of (y/n)’s neck burned as she felt the smug presence behind her. She was still hyper-aware of how close the beautiful woman behind her was. Even if it was a friendly distance, and they were sort of becoming close, she still shifted awkwardly. She _really_ couldn’t look Daryl in the eye after that, but now it was out of creeping shame at being attracted to someone else.

especially so close after having a breakup, especially since she still loved him so very, very much. But he didn’t need to know that.

“What did you tell them?” Andrea accused in (y/n)’s direction.

It brought her back to the argument at hand. Apparently, she’d been zoning out.

“Nothing.” Came a satisfied purr from behind her.

Whatever relationship Michonne and Andrea had, it seems it hadn’t ended well.

She snuck one final look at Daryl, only to catch his eyes again, and whipped her head back around so fast that she felt something in her neck crack. She knew the feeling.

 


	27. Crossroads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader think's she's made up her mind, but perhaps there's still time to change it.

Later in the afternoon (y/n) led Andrea up to the landing to show her the baby.

“You can’t leave without meeting little Ass-Kicker,” Carol stated, holding up the baby for Andrea to see.

(y/n) smiled as she watched Andrea take Judith, cooing over the small child.

“Let me guess, Daryl named her Ass-Kicker.” She joked.

(y/n) gave a grimace that she tried to pass as a smile, but Andrea caught it, and after learning the baby’s actual name, and talking about Rick’s sudden cold shift, she turned the conversation back over to Daryl.

“What happened, (n/n)? Between you and Daryl. He’s been following you around with his eyes like a lost puppy, but you won’t give him the time of day. Is this because of what you said earlier? About being left at the farm?” she questioned sadly, she seemed genuinely disappointed that the pair was on bad terms, which (y/n) was surprised about, seeing as Andrea had been so against them back at the farm.

(y/n) laughed bitterly, “no, this is about somethin’ else. About some other time he abandoned me.” She was not going to elaborate further.

Carol, to (y/n)’s endless relief, chose to change the subject, urging Andrea to kill the governor in his sleep. A suggestion to which, Andrea seemed horrified.

~

Andrea was preparing to leave again, and (n/n) found that she was just a little bit sad. The woman had just got here, and she reminded (n/n) of easier times. happier ones. Where their problems were more ‘there’s a few walkers to take care of’ and not ‘some psycho with a tank wants to destroy our home and kill us all.’

It’s funny, how time worked now. Back at the farm, though it wasn’t even a year ago, a few walkers were the biggest problem in the world. Now, they hardly even worried about what to do when they ran into one. The problems they’d had at the farm… seemed so small now, though they were life-threatening at the time.

(y/n) walked with the blonde, expressing her sadness at parting so soon. Her companion echoed the sentiment whole heartily, bumping the woman affectionately.

“Andrea, I have a favor to ask of you, an’… well, it’s a big ask.” She stated nervously.

At Andrea’s curious and questioning expression (y/n) continued: “I’m thinkin’ of leavin’. Georgia. For good. But I don’t want to go knowin’ my friends are in danger.”

Andrea seemed baffled, “why the hell do you want to leave?”

“It’s just gettin’ hard here, seein’ Daryl every day, and havin’ the others look at me like I’m delicate an’ broken… It’s maddenin’. I want to finish this, an’ just leave.”

The blonde was quiet, nodding with understanding, but there was the underlying sadness in her eyes, and it made (n/n) growl.

“That. What you’re doin’ with your eyes. That’s what I mean. I need to escape that shit.”

Andrea averted her gaze, an ashamed blush dusting her cheeks as she muttered out a ‘sorry’.

“I was gone durin’ the time your little boyfriend came knockin’ on our door with a bunch of semi-automatics, so I’m willin’ to bet he doesn’t know what I look like, or that I’m part of this group. I’m a fighter, anyone with eyes can see that, an’, if he’s gearin’ for war like you say he is, he’ll take in anyone who looks like they can handle themselves. All I want you to do if you see me is to pretend that we don’t know each other. Or, at the very least, that we haven’t seen each other since the farm. I know you don’t want to get your hands dirty, but you can’t believe this can end peacefully. Not really. You know what he is, you just don’t wanna see it. Let me take care of it. I can end this, an’ then I’m free. I can leave without worryin’ for these people’s lives, an’ I’ll never have a reason to return.”

Before Andrea can respond there’s a small-voiced question behind her, and they sound just so betrayed.

“You’re going to leave us?”

Carl. Shit.

She whipped around, seeing the boy behind her. he was pouting and glaring at her harshly.

“Carl-”

“You can’t!” he cut her off, “That’s not fair! What about me and Judith? You said you wouldn’t leave! You don’t get to do that!”

“You’ll be fine, you don’t need me. None of you do, an' I… I gotta move on from here, this ain’t workin’ for me anymore. I don’t want to leave you, Bud. I love you; you know that. But I just-”

“No. You know what? Fine. Go ahead and leave. You’re right, we don’t need you.” as he said the words that cut her harsher than any blade, he unbuckled the holsters from his legs, shoving the actual blades she’d once given him back into her hands as he stormed off.

~

Andrea was saying her final goodbyes as she got into the car Rick had allowed her to take. Carol hugged her, reminding her to think about what she said and (y/n) was right behind her, offering the blonde a squeeze as well.

“Remember what I said, too.” Andrea gave her an unsure nod.

(y/n) knew Andrea didn’t want her to kill the Governor, but she also knew that if she showed up, Andrea would protect her as best she could. By looking the other way.

At her parting statement, Carl scoffed at her, rolling his eyes as he stomped back into the cellblock. Andrea gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “He’ll come around. He can’t stay mad at you forever.” She assured as she got in the car and drove off.

~

That night in the cell block, dinner was quiet. Everyone wrapped up in their own thoughts about Andrea, and the Governor, and this supposed peace talk.

In the din of forks scraping ceramic plates, Carl spoke up.

“(n/n) says she’s going to leave us.”

“Carl!” she reprimanded, angry that he would rat her out like that.

Every pair of eyes in the room turned to look at her at once. Two pairs of eyes burning the hottest on her skin. The first from Daryl, and the second, surprisingly, from Merle.

“Is that true?” Rick questioned.

Her face scrunched into a sour pout as she glanced over everyone’s faces before answering like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar; “I’m not gonna go ‘till this thing with the Governor is dealt with.”

“But you _are_ leaving.” Carl accused.

“Yes.”

The boy grunted, shoving his dinner away and promptly storming from the room. She called out to him, but he opened the cellblock door, slamming it behind him as he walked off into the courtyard. She flinched at the sound.

Maggie shook her head in disbelief, “(n/n), _Why_?”

She laughed bitterly, “Are you serious?” She stood up gesturing around at everyone, “Because every time I look at someone here I see somethin’ that makes me angry; whether it’s Daryl’s pitiful looks makin’ me feel bad, the rest of you handlin’ me with kid gloves, Rick yellin’ at me when I’m just tryin’ to help… fuckin’ Merle…” she gestured over to him violently, the hand falling back to her thigh again afterward with a resounding smack.

They watched her make a scene like she was some bizarre circus act, and it made her realize she was in hysterics. She quickly took a haggard breath, returning to a semi-calm state as she looked out at the sea of people who used to be family. Friends. Now that she’d decided to leave soon, they all just seemed like… people. Strangers.

“I’ve made up my mind. You’re not gonna convince me otherwise, so don’t try.”

~

Despite her request not to try and change her mind, most of the group tried anyway.

“Shane was Carl’s godfather, you know.” Rick had told her the following morning as she’d helped him prep the Honda for the run he was going on with Michonne and Carl.

“was he now?’ she asked in an uninterested drone.

“He was. I was thinkin’… I’d like you to be Judith’s godmother.”

She’d whipped her head over to look at him, to see him staring her down.

“What?” she’d asked, completely caught off guard.

He’d ignored her comment as he finished, “You can only do that if you stay,” before he’d brushed passed her, getting in the car.

The others had more subtle approaches, but she could see what they were trying to do anyway. She’d promptly shut them down, choosing to exit the conversation before they could finish their point.

It seemed as if her leaving was all anyone wanted to talk about around her, and so she found herself avoiding everyone, walking the perimeter of the courtyard for hours before she saw the green car approaching yet again, moving to let them in.

She moved to help them unload the car, trying to help Carl carry something, but he simply ripped it harshly from her hands, not even looking at her as he hefted it into the cellblock.

She sighed as she felt Michonne come to stand beside her. “y’all find anythin' good?”

She felt Michonne laugh slightly, and she turned to see the woman holding up a cat statue, and (n/n) found herself joining in.

“That has to be the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen. I love it.”

Michonne dropped the cat back into a crib sitting in the trunk of the car and began to heft the whole thing out. (y/n) grabbed the other side, and they waddled their way back into the cellblock with it.

“I’m glad you like the statue so much.” She grunted, “I was thinking of putting it up in my cell… thought it might make it seem less… depressing.”

“Oh, I think that thing might have the opposite effect. ‘sides, why’d you want to spruce up the cell? You sound like you’re fixin’ to stay.” (y/n) huffed back.

“That’s ‘cuz I am.”

They dropped the crib to the floor as (y/n) stared at her, bewildered. Michonne smiled, narrowing her eyebrows in confusion.

“Why, do you not want me to?”

She shook her head, “no, it ain’t that, it’s just… I figured after the Governor was gone, you’d leave. Or that Rick would make you.”

Michonne nodded, like she agreed, moving around the side of the crib to lean against it, and (y/n) did the same.

“I thought that too, but this run we did… I think it was my audition. To become part of this group. I think he’s going to let me stay.”

(y/n) was quiet for a beat, staring off at the caging at the far end of the room, “…or, you could come with me.” She offered.

She heard Michonne sigh beside her, so she continued to talk

“think about it; we could make it out there. Together. No danger, no towns of people with a dark secret, no drama, just us.” She gripped the woman’s hand, and Michonne turned to look at her face, scanning it.

“Come with me.” (y/n) whispered.

Michonne continued to scan, uncertainty, then understanding lighting her features, a small smile playing on her lips before she looked behind her and frowned slightly. (y/n) followed her gaze to find Daryl, leaning in the doorway. He looked between (y/n) and Michonne with confusion. Back and forth, before his eyes fell to their clasped hands. He stared at them silently before he slowly turned around, heading back into the cellblock.

(y/n) whipped her head around quick, scrunching her eyes closed. She felt guilt and shame creep their way through her body. She wasn’t sure what he was thinking, or why she cared, but she knew she’d upset him, and that she hadn’t meant for him to see…whatever it was he’d just seen.

She looked back up when she felt Michonne’s hand break from her grip to fall lightly to her shoulder. The woman’s smile was sympathetic, understanding. “I’m going to stay. You should too.”

~

(y/n) didn’t know why she’d agreed to go to the negotiation, it completely blew her plan to infiltrate Woodberry completely out of the water. Well, actually, she did know why.

It was because Rick had asked her to go. She’d been holed up in the prison looking after the baby and staying behind for so long, just waiting for Rick to say he needed her to come with him that the minute he’d moved towards the cars, turning back to her saying “you comin'?” that she immediately agreed.

Even if she wasn’t going to stay, she was still with them right now.

And so, she sat on the hood of the car, one leg dangling over the edge, kicking the tire with her heel as she held a rife up against her opposite shoulder, leaning back against the windshield, waiting with Hershel for the Woodberry people to approach.

Daryl and Rick had marched ahead to scope things out, and the whole place was eerily quiet. Not even birds were signing. It set (n/n) on edge, though she tried not to show it, in case someone was watching.

The other car approached just as Daryl came back. 

Daryl had his crossbow up, pointed at the heads of the arriving people, but (n/n) chose to stay where she was, trying to look as unintimidated as possible, though her heart was beating rapidly.

When the travelers got out of the car, Daryl was immediately on them, “What the hell? Why’s your boy already in there?”

Both (y/n) and Andrea looked shocked at that, but for different reasons.

“He’s here?” 

 “You left Rick alone in there with that psycho?”

Andrea gave her a slight glare before hurrying into the warehouse, while (y/n), who’d broken her composure had rolled off the car to her feet to go rushing towards the building as well.

She felt strong arms wrap around her stomach and lift her into the air a bit. “He’ll be fine. He’s tough.”

"So are Glen an’ Maggie. You saw what he did to them.”

 “Governor's not gonna do anythin’ while Andrea’s in there. Wouldn’t want to ruin her sparklin’ image of him.”

She was in a serious situation, but she couldn’t help but revel in his touch. The feeling of his huffed breath on her neck. She missed this. She hated that she missed this. She hated that she pretended to hate missing him.

“Yeah,” she grumbled, pretending she wasn’t leaning into his hold has he hauled her back up onto the hood of the car, “An’ how long do you think that’s gonna last? I love Andrea, I do, but after a while, you start gettin’ pretty sick of her shit.”

One of the men, the one who seemed like the only real threat of the Governor’s ‘backup’, snorted at that, and Daryl whipped around to glare at him, snatching his crossbow back from where he’d dropped it on the ground, and he kept his eyes on the man as he started to pace.

And he did that as they waited. Twenty or so minutes had gone by, and (y/n) was starting to feel herself bake in the Georgia sun. She leaned farther back on the hood, closing her eyes as she turned her face towards the sky. she’d either get red as a tomato, or she’d get a good tan. Either way, it was skin damage.

“Maybe I should go inside,” Hershel suggested, finally.

(y/n) agreed, this was taking too long, and everyone was restless. Well, on their side, they were. The two from Woodberry seemed bored and practically disinterested, and it made (y/n) even more unsettled.

“The Governor thought it best if he and Rick spoke privately.” The unassuming man who’d been writing in a notebook spoke up for the first time, and he came off so meek that (y/n) wondered how he’d survived this long. He’d obviously never had to fight for his life before.

“An’ who the hell are you?” Daryl questioned.

“Milton Mamet.”

(y/n) almost snorted. His name made him sound like a Muppet. He sort of looked like one, too. Now that she thought about it, the guy looked just like Scooter.

Undamaged glasses, not even a scratch on the lens, khaki pants and a belt paired with a tucked-in flannel, little pocket protector probably… all fine and well and good, but when you set that person in the apocalypse, they tend to stand out. he was like the butt of his own cosmic joke. A dork in the wastes, untouched by the spoils of Armageddon. 

“Great.” Daryl retorted, “He brought his butler.”

(y/n) did snort at that, letting out a small chuckle and a smile, meeting eyes with Daryl and, for the first time since his return, not immediately looking away. He looked back, letting out a small smile at the moment.

“I’m his advisor.” Milton corrected, a little irritated with being the target of aggression, even if it was just verbal, “You know, I don’t think I have to explain myself to the henchmen.”

That set about a small series of thinly veiled threats and insults that had Daryl and the muscle from Woodberry squaring up.

(y/n) rolled her eyes and pinched at the bridge of her nose as she watched them. Hershel attempted to break up the fighting, but the two were still eyeing each other.

“For Christ sake would y’all stop dick measurin’?”

They scoffed, stepping back from each other, both turning to glare at her, though Daryl’s was halfhearted.

Things were quiet after that, both sides glaring daggers at each other. Soon enough Andrea re-appeared, and everything seemed to gain an edge. Daryl’s pacing, the other guy’s glares and leers, Hershel shouldering the gun, (y/n) perched on the car hood, everything had an air of sharp tension, tight as a bowstring.

Milton, at some point, had started talking about using the time to discuss things and (y/n) wrinkled her nose, choosing instead to lean back again.

The others debated it, Milton stating his opinion on the ‘battle’.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it a ‘battle’.” Daryl deadpanned, casually leaning back against the car. He was close. Closer than she’d let him get in a while. She could feel the metal of his crossbow cold against her arm, and she found she didn’t mind at all. But she wished she did.

she scrunched her eyebrows in thought. Why was she focusing on all this now? She’d decided to leave already.

_Maybe that’s why._

She thought to herself,

_Maybe I’m trying to find reasons not to leave._

“Well, I would. I did. I recorded it. Somebody’s got to keep a record of what we’ve gone through. It’ll be a part of our history.”

(y/n) groaned. Oh good. He was one of those people.

“That makes sense.” Hershel agreed.

“No, it doesn’t.” (y/n) spat. She didn’t move from her position taking in the sun, “The world’s dead, history doesn’t matter. All that matters is right here an’ now. 50 years from now all that’s gonna be left are two people fightin’ over the last three packs of crackers an’ half a skunk, an’ they’re not gonna give two shits that two assholes once had a slap fight over a prison.”

“(n/n), you don’t mean that. You were once a virologist. You were trying to fight this. You had hope. What happened to all of that?” Hershel reprimanded.

She laughed, about to respond when they heard the telltale moans of a walker.

Daryl, the other man, and Andrea all got up to check it out. (y/n) moved to go as well, but Daryl stopped her, motioning towards Hershel. With a sigh, she nodded, jumping back on the hood.

~

While they waited, Hershel and Milton talked for quite a while. About Hershel’s bite. About the scary day and a half where we weren’t sure he’d wake… They ended up laughing at some point while (y/n) was lost in the past, and (y/n) snapped out of it, staring back at them with bewilderment.

At some point during the exchange, Andrea had returned. But the others had not. It bristled (n/n), and she was about to go looking for the two before Hershel got up to talk with Andrea, and Milton began to converse with her.

“You were a virologist. Were you working for the CDC?”

She sighed she knew what this conversation was going to be. She didn’t want to have it. The fact that she didn’t see Daryl was putting her on edge, too, but no one else seemed worried.

She sat down next to the Muppet man and spoke.

“Yep.”

It seemed so far away now. Like that had been a completely different person. In a lot of ways, it had been.

“one would assume it'd be safe. armed military, food, water, power… not to mention it’s the last hope for humanity to find a cure. why would you leave all that? Why would you abandon your research? give up?” his tone was accusatory, and his judgment dug under her skin. She turned, glaring harshly.

“One… scientist to another, that is.” He amended, trying to cool her seething temper.

“I didn’t ‘give up’. In fact, I was one of two people in the entire staff of 30 who didn’t ‘give up’. I abandoned that place ‘cause there was nothin’ left to research. There was no cure; no point. ‘sides we were runnin’ out of time.”

“What do you mean?” he pressed.

“It blew up. Self-destructed. I got out just before the fireworks went off.” She deadpanned.

She just wanted this conversation over. She moved to get up, but he spoke up again and with an aggravated sigh, she sat back down.

“No, I meant about there being no cure. Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

“You don’t have even a little bit of hope for the future?”

“Nope.”

“What if there’s something there? What if they’re still in there? If you had the choice, you’re telling me you’d leave all those people to their fate?”

She turned to him, looking him over and assessing him as he stared back at her, bewildered that a ‘woman of science’ would ‘leave her duty, and forego her work’ and it got her mad. She wasn’t even sure why. Maybe she took not being able to find a cure personally. Maybe it was because this man reminded her of Jenner in a way. Maybe it was because he reminded her of herself. Before everything happened.

“You listen to me. They aren’t people. There’s nothin’ left. It’s not some trance they’re gonna wake up from, they’re rottin’ corpses. They’re dead. That’s all there is to it.” She growled lowly.

“You don’t know tha-”

“No.” she barked, “I do. Have you ever seen an MRI scan of these people as they transform? Because I have. Believe me,” she took in a shuttering breath. She hadn’t thought of Candace or Edwin in a long, long, long time. She hadn’t realized it’d hit her so hard to remember.

“There’s nothin’ left.”

She left him in shocked silence as she stormed away, spying Rick and a man she could only assume was the Governor appear from the warehouse. Rick seemed grim. More so than usual, and (y/n) made a note to question him about it back at the prison.

Silently, the two groups moved to their designated vehicles and drove off.


	28. Are You, You? Am I Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've been dead for two thousand years, but I woke up in a cold sweat with an idea for a scene and so I can continue

When they got back to the prison, Rick gave a rallying speech.

“We’re goin’ to war.” He’d finished before he began to walk off.

(y/n) had turned as he began to move from the room.

“What did he say to you in there? Whatever it was, it really ruffled your feathers. What kind of ‘deal’ did he offer you?” she asked.

He paused, half turning to look at her before he continued walking towards the courtyard.

“Rick!” she called after him, but it was no use. He didn’t stop again.

~

(y/n) stood in the caging catwalk between the cellblocks, staring out at the yard. It’d been two days, almost, since the ‘negotiation’ and still, Rick hadn’t said a word to her over what the Governor wanted. She watched as he spoke off in a corner with Daryl and Hershel. They seemed to be debating something.

She growled, kicking at the fencing that surrounded her. they were probably talking about that exact thing right now, and she hadn’t been invited to the talk. Well, what did she expect? She’d folded. She’d taken her name from the hat.

She wasn’t a part of the group anymore; she was just there to see this through. This was all her.

It stung.

“You’d think with a glare like that the fence wouldda melted.” Came a raspy drawl from behind her.

She turned, irritated already.

“What do you want?” she whined with annoyance.

Merle stood behind her, looking like an extra from a low budget pirate movie with the attachment over his stump.

“Just to talk.” He appeased with his faux suave tone, “You’re fixin’ to leave. I’m here to change your mind.”

She laughed heartily at that. “The others tried that. If people I care about can’t change my mind, what makes you think  _you_ could?”

“Because  _we_  got stuff in common.”

She rolled her eyes, but he continued.

“We got more in common than you got with those others.” he pressed.

“Really?” she scoffed, “name one thing.”

He paced around her, leering over her as he drawled, “We both love my brother, both know we don’t really belong. Both got darkness in us. Sure, Rick’s got that too, but he ain’t handlin’ it as well as you an’ me.”

She shook her head. “I don’t got any-”

“Oh, believe me, honey, you do.” he cut her off unhurriedly, “I seen it. It’s in your eyes when you fight. You love it. Live for it.” He gave her an affirmative hum at her cold glare.

“The look you had in your eyes when you first knocked me to the ground, I damn near pissed myself, Little Sister.”

He chuckled lowly.

“What’s any of this got to do with me stayin’?” she questioned tiredly. She didn’t want to admit it, but he’d struck a nerve.

He shrugged, “ 's Like I said, you got darkness. Right now, it’s an asset. Comes out when you need it, but you’re still domesticated enough to keep it hidden away when you don’t. If you stay here, it’ll stay that way for however long, but if you go out? It’ll take over. There ain’t no comin’ back from that, believe you me.”

She stared down at her feet before scrunching her eyes tight and shaking her head.

“Why am I sittin’ here listinin’ to you?” She questioned herself, “You’re the reason all this is happenin’. we were fine ‘till you kidnapped Glen an’ Maggie an’ Daryl.”

“I never kidnapped Daryl.” He scoffed

“You might as well have.” She growled, shoving him, “You’re sittin’ here preachin’ to me, tryin’ to get me to stay when  _your_ actions are what drove me to leave in the first place. This isn’t about ‘darkness’ or whatever, this is about  _you_  fixin’ your messes!”

He seemed to steam, huffing, and puffing as she yelled at him. It was something familiar. Something she recognized from when she’d fight with Daryl. She didn’t want to, but she felt herself becoming endeared to this man, even while she hated him, based solely on the small similarities she’d find.

“You know what, Sweetheart? You’re right. That is what this is. I’ve made mistakes, I know I have. I’ve done things I can never take back. Killed people who didn’t deserve it. Started a war. Unknowingly broke up my brother an’ his little girlfriend…”

He chuckled, “Although, maybe that’s a good thing.” He digressed casually.

“Excuse me?”

She was beginning to seethe. he turned to stare at her, an angry pout on his lips as he challenged her. “You heard me, Sweetheart.”

She was about to protest. To yell, to smack him, something, but he just kept talking.

“when we were out there together, an’ we were stompin’ back to your little home, he kept talkin’ about how ‘(n/n) was right’ and how he couldn’t believe he’d just left you. he was practically singin’ your praises the whole way there. Damn annoyin’. When we got here, an’ he realized you were gone, he was a damn mess, tryin’ to send out search parties an’ shit. He cares about you more than he’s ever cared about anythin’ in his life, and you just tossed him aside in favor of the samurai, like it was nothin’.”

“I never-”

“No, you didn’t. But you were thinkin’ about it,” he continued, slowly advancing on her as he spoke, making it so he towered over her, but she would not flinch. She never flinched.

“Honestly, you’d think that boy’d have enough sense to go for someone a little less weak. Less shallow,” She tried to interrupt again, but every time she tried, he’d just speak over her. He had a talent for speaking over people, “Here he is mopin’ after you like some dog beggin’ for scraps of affection, an’ you’re too busy hatin’ him over runnin’ out that you won’t even recognize that he  _came back_.”

She had nothing to say to that. It was true. She didn’t like to admit it, but…

“I  _know_  you still care about ‘im, so why don’t you ever show it?” he accused, and that got her steamed. Was he so far up on that high horse that he didn’t see his own mistakes?

“Why don’t  _you_  show it?”

“Because I’m a piece of shit. You seem to think you’re better than me, so act like it.” He finished. As he turned to leave, he tossed over his shoulder with biting accuracy, “I haven’t always been there for ‘im, but I’m tryin’ to be now. If havin’ family didn’t get hard sometimes, you wouldn’t appreciate havin’ them around when things are easy… shit. I need to take the edge off.”

With that, he made his way towards C Block, and she was left with her thoughts.

She really,  _really_ didn’t want to admit that he was right, but he was. Especially about how she’d been treating Daryl. She leaned her forehead against the fencing as she continued to sulk. What was that adage? If you love something set it free, if it returns, it’s yours; if it doesn’t it never was… he’d returned, hadn’t he?

And she’d done nothing but spurn him.

She let her eyes fall shut as she groaned.

“Let me guess, you just had a conversation with Merle. He has that effect on people.” Came a low growl from behind her.

She gasped whipping around to find Daryl in the catwalk with her. He stared at her forehead, seeming like he wanted to laugh, but graciously, he didn’t, seemingly a little too tense to do so. She probably had fence-shaped indents on her face.

“You’re really makin’ a habit of sneakin’ up on me, Dixon.” She joked tiredly.

Seeing her give him a smile seemed to remove tension from his stance as he walked further into the space, moving to sit next to her as she turned to sit against the pallets.

He shrugged like it hadn’t occurred to him.

“I guess it came in handy this time, I’ve been meanin’ to talk to you.” she mused idly, she stared off at the rest of the prison as she continued to talk, “I was thinkin’ the other day, ‘bout our first fight, an’ how you left first thing the next day and I thought I’d lost you for a bit… I said then that I didn’t want to leave things on bad terms in case we never got the chance to make amends, but I haven’t really been livin’ up to that statement lately, huh?”

He shrugged again, letting her talk. She appreciated that, though she suspected it was because he didn’t have a thing to say. He and his brother… so similar, but so different, too.

“I guess I was just… I don’t know honestly--why I made such a big deal out of it once you returned. I guess it’s just that everyone I’ve ever cared about has left me in one way or another, an’ I thought you’d be different. You  _are_ different, obviously, because here you are… I guess I was just too angry to see that. I’m sorry.”

He still didn’t say a thing, but hesitantly, she could feel him move his arm around her shoulder, tucking her into his side. (y/n) let him, moving to lean her head against his shoulder.

This was nice. She’d missed this. She would miss this… was she still planning on leaving?

He asked her that question seconds after she asked herself.

She lifted her head, shaking it as she sighed, “I…don't know.”

“What about the others, they’re still gonna need you, even after the Governor. You think we’re just gonna run out of problems after he’s gone? You said you’d follow Rick to the ends of the earth once, didn’t ya? What happened to that?” he grumbled quietly, a little frustrated that she was still planning on going, even after it seemed she was starting to warm back up.

She shook her head, “I said that three-to-four Ricks ago. We’ve both changed so much since then. He’s not the same person I made that promise to, and I’m not the same person who made that promise.”

~

It wasn’t until after Rick had gathered them all to inform them that The Governor had offered them peace in exchange for Michonne that (y/n) even realized the woman was missing.

she furrowed her brows in concern, looking around for her and when she really didn’t see her, she stopped Rick in his speech. “Rick…. You didn’t- no. No! She was one of us!” she moved to stand up and yell some more, but he put his hand up, nodding to her, and begrudgingly, she quieted, letting him continue.

“I knew you’d react that way, it’s why I didn’t tell you. Because I was going to do that. To keep us safe.”

There was profound silence after his statement, and (y/n) was getting more and more anxious. Not only did she not see Michonne, she didn’t see Daryl. She didn’t see Merle either, although honestly, that was less of a concern and more of a relief.

“Merle took Michonne to fulfill the deal and Daryl went to stop him, and I don’t know if it’s too late,” Rick continued.

Her anxiety spiked dramatically. There was no way that was going to end well. Either Michonne killed Merle, and Daryl loses his cool, or Daryl fights his own brother, and something goes wrong.

She was brought out of her thoughts by the ending of Rick’s speech:

“I was wrong not to tell you all. What I said last year, that first night after the farm; It can’t be like that. It can’t. what we do, what we’re willing to do, who we are… it’s not my call. It can’t be. I couldn’t sacrifice one of us for the greater good because we  _are_  the greater good. We’re the reason we’re still here, not me.  _We_ choose to go  _we_  chose to stay. We stick together. We vote. We can stay and fight, or we can go.”

After his speech, he turned, walking away from the group. (n/n) smiled as she watched him march off, like the true sheriff he was.

And she realized, he wasn’t just back, he was right; and in a way, so was Merle.

She could leave, and survive on her own, but what would be the point? What would she do? where would she go? There’d be no real point. Here, there was one. There were people to live for and to live with. To look after and care for. Her job, before and after the end of the world was to keep people safe. It’s all she knew how to do.

She tried to tell herself that’s what it was. That it was rick’s optimism, and not Merle’s haunting words about darkness that got her to sway.

~

Later, when she caught up with Rick in the watchtower, he was looking for Daryl to return. She put her hand on his shoulder. It was a little awkward with the height difference, but she managed.

“Welcome back, Rick. You’ve been gone a while.” She mused.

“Yeah, I know.” He acknowledged without really looking at her. he kept his eyes on the skyline. A blanket of comfortable silence fell between them, and (y/n) felt almost bad about breaking it.

“I’ve been thinkin’; about everythin’ you said today, and I think… I’m goin’ to stay.” She whispered to him, trying not to completely dispel the moment of peace.

He let out a breath of a chuckle, pulling her into a side hug and rubbing her arm in platonic affection.

“That’s good. I’m… I’m glad.” He sort-of trailed off as he spotted Michonne making her way to the gates.

Alone.

They both looked to each other, confusion and mild unease mirroring their faces as they rushed from the tower to greet her.

~

Daryl came back, red rings circling his eyes and no Merle. No one had to ask or speculate what happened, and no one stopped to console the man as he marched straight up to the room he’d finally made for himself in the cell blocks.

The group would be leaving in the morning--or at least, making it seem like they were—but for the night, they had time to sort everything out. (y/n) only had one thing she wanted to settle.

Slowly, she made her way to Daryl’s cell. She could hear him sniffing, though it was obvious he was trying to be as quiet as he could be. When she finally arrived in the doorway, he looked up at her with a glare that should have pinned her to the floor, but it didn’t even phase her. He was Daryl. He wasn’t going to hurt her, and he wasn’t angry with her specifically, he was just looking for someone to be mad at.

“Whatcha want?” he growled, turning so he wasn’t facing her.                                                

She didn’t say a word, she just sat next to him on the bed, moving to take his hand in hers. He violently ripped it away.

“Leave me be. Why do you even care? You ain’t stickin’ around much longer. Just fuckin’ leave, you’d be doin’ us all a favor.” He spat.

She closed her eyes, letting the words roll off her back as she waited patiently for him to turn back to her. It took about ten minutes of him sniffing and holding everything back before finally, he turned to her, with the most shattered look on his face. Hesitantly, (y/n) opened her arms, and watched as he fell into them, roughly dropping his head in the crook of her neck and letting her hold him.

She carefully wrapped him in her arms, petting at his hair and feeling him shudder against her. she slowly lowered them, moving to lay down on the cot and he shifted with her bringing his arms up to hold her too, though it was more of a desperate cling on his part.

(y/n) closed her eyes and continued to stroke his head and listened to the sound of his gradually evening breathing. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep.

~

The next morning, she was shaken awake gently, Rick’s hushed voice urging her to wake up.

She pried her eyes open to look at him, feeling a bit bashful as she caught a glimpse of his face. He had a knowing grin like he was saying ‘of course, I’d find you here.’

She was still dazed as she awoke not fully computing. She’d been in a deep sleep. Deeper and more restful than she’d had in a long, long time.

“We gotta go soon. Would have woke ya earlier, but Carol thought you two could use the sleep.”

As he spoke, she heard a rough groan behind her and felt the arms she hadn’t realized had been wrapped around her stomach tighten minutely.

Rick’s grin widened as he watched her catch up to the situation.

“Wake him up, would ya? I don’t think he’d appreciate it as much if I did it.”


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what's up? I'm the worst! I also don't really like this chapter, but I had to soldier through it because, gott damn! I want to write the next part, and I really really want to start writing things from Daryl's view for a bit, and this chapter was in the way.

She painstakingly packed the saddlebags on the motorbike so they could fit all their things. It seemed like they had so little right up until they had to put it all away. Daryl sat on the ground at her feet, helping her prep, and occasionally holding up things he needed her to find a place for. He was quiet. Quieter than usual, and (y/n) didn’t press him for conversation. He was still rather shaken by the death of his brother.

Carol said something as she approached, trying to get him to feel better as she informed them it was about time to leave. She heard Carol helping him to his feet behind her before she walked away again.

 (y/n) remained silent, still fiddling with the bags when she found her jacket, tucked at the bottom of one of the compartments. It’d gotten colder, recently, and the light sweater she was wearing just wasn’t cutting it anymore. Hell, even Daryl had put the sleeves back on his vest. She shivered a bit as the wind blew in her direction and she slung the jacket over her shoulders. She’d just finished zipping it up, both pleased and concerned to find that it wasn’t as snug around her stomach as it had been last year when she felt a heavy fabric fall over her. she turned around as Daryl continued to fiddle with the serape he just draped over her.

“You looked cold. You were shiverin’.” He defended, though she hadn’t questioned the gesture at all.

This was how things had been for most of the day since they’d woken up together. Hesitant and unsure of every word; every gesture, as if they weren’t even sure how the other was going to react to little domestic affections. Every cautious brush of fingers as things were handed to each other, every hesitant glance, every second together was laced with a question that both were asking and neither knew how to answer.

_“What are we now?”_

_~_

The question lingered even after the fight with the Governor’s men was over. As they were preparing to move out and bring the fight to Woodberry, (n/n) had a choice: she could ride in the truck with the others, or she could take back her place on Daryl’s bike.

She knew where she wanted to be, she just wasn’t quite sure if that’s where she should be. She took a huff of breath.

 If they were going to dance around each other like this, they might as well make it interesting.

Gathering her confidence, she moved to sit behind Daryl, feeling as the muscle tensed and then instantly relaxed under her touch.

In another moment they were moving out, and she had nothing to focus on but the biting wind on her face, and the warm expanse of back in front of her….

~

…Until, of course, they came across the slaughter.

Some were Walkers, some were corpses, and the whole of it was gruesome. She and Michonne began clearing out the ones that still needed to be put down while Daryl and Rick began surveying the scene.

It was. Unnerving. The people that had been shooting up their home mere moments ago were now lying in the road, completely gunned down. Did they open fire on each other?

Feeling on edge, (y/n) instinctively backed up until she was pressed to Daryl’s side, gripping the sleeve of his jacket between a few fingers.

He looked down to take notice of it but couldn’t form any real thought before a loud bang sounded behind them. they broke apart and moved away from the truck that had been at their backs, looking to see a woman pressed against the window looking more frightened than (y/n) had seen anyone in a while.

Rick held up his pistol, pointing it at her, but one look told (n/n) this woman wasn’t a threat. She casually swatted Rick’s gun away as she moved to ease the woman out of the cab. She was shaking and clinging to (y/n) like a lost child.

One look around at the others told her that they were beginning to think the same thing she did. Woodberry wasn’t a threat; it was just the Governor. And somehow, after looking at the carnage all around them, one man seemed a hell of a lot scarier than a whole town.

~

(y/n) felt her heartbeat pick up as they rounded the corner of the warehouse. This was where Glen and Maggie had been kidnapped. She understood why Rick had wanted them to stay behind, coming back here wouldn’t have been good for them, it wasn’t good for her, and she hadn’t even been here before. The stench of blood radiated off these walls in a way that expressly told her that Glen and Maggie had not been the first victims to have been held here.

They finally stopped, at the end of the hall was a door, blood flowing from the other side and congealing in front of it.

The picture alone had (y/n)’s stomach dropping fifty feet.

Finding Andrea had it dropping about one hundred.

She wasn’t sure why she was tearing up, they hadn’t liked each other very much, and even now that they were sort of getting along, they had wildly different opinions on things. To the point that if they had the time to discuss them, they might end up at each other’s throats again.

But still, the tears fell, and like the others, she took her time to say goodbye. The others cleared out, and soon it was just (y/n), Andrea and Michonne. She’d never seen Michonne so heartbroken before, it made her wonder, with a slight twinge of jealousy, what relationship the two might have had. Though the feeling faded quickly as she realized it didn’t really matter anymore. For a few reasons.

She knelt by the blonde, catching one of her hands and gripping it. “Hey, Dumbass.” She greeted gently.

“Hey, Busybody.” She acknowledged after a bit of struggle.

“you know, at some point, I kinda thought, ‘if not a single one of her stupid decisions killed her, then I guess nothin’ can’.” She heard Andrea weakly laugh, “I guess I was wrong.”

“You decided to stay.” Andrea pointed out.

“How did you…? Yeah, I decided to stay.”

She gave a grin and a huff as she looked up at the ceiling. “That’s good. You belong there. You belonged more than I did. I guess that’s why I fought back so much. I wanted to have power and sway, I wanted to be one of the strong ones, but no one ever really listened to me. And then here you were, some rando we just picked up who had no idea what the world was like until we plucked you from that bunker, and you’re being relied on, and Rick is listening to you more than he even listens to Shane, and Daryl—the gruff, mean, quiet one—can’t keep his eyes off you, and you’re just… everything I was trying to be and you didn’t even notice how much power you had.”

She was speechless. How was she supposed to respond to that?

“Andrea, I never realized…”

Andrea shook her head, “No, it’s fine. I would have made an awful leader. You were right, I make _terrible_ decisions.”

Both girls laughed, and (y/n) squeezed her hand once more. “Bye… Andrea.”

“Goodbye, (n/n).”

She left the room and shuttered a little as the door slid shut behind her. Daryl had been kneeling on the floor, chewing at his thumb, but when he saw her enter the hall he stood up. She slowly moseyed over, moving once again to grip his sleeve. There was still that hesitance in their touch, but when she heard the gunshot, she pressed her forehead to his shoulder and felt his embrace circle her for a moment before it was time to move on.

~

(y/n) had mixed feelings about allowing the people of Woodberry to join them. On the one hand, it meant more hands to help repair and build up the prison, more community, a chance to make something good.

On the other hand, it was more mouths to feed, more to protect, less room, more noise, and also, more people to conflict with.

It’d been a few days, and she’d gotten to speak with a few of the new people. Most were amicable, expressing gratitude towards her and her family for taking them in, a sort of reverence that made her a twinge uncomfortable, but in a good way. These people didn’t just look up to Rick, they looked up to everyone in the original prison group for one reason or another.

One conversation she’d had, though, sort of left a bad taste in her mouth. A group of girls, a bit younger than her, but not by much had come by to ask for advice. Advice that (y/n) was not happy to give.

“So what’s the deal with that Daryl guy?” one of them had asked, and the others giggled. They were in the process of doing laundry, and much like the times she’d done chores like this with Carol and the Greenes, idle chatter gave way to gossip.

“Umm, what?” (y/n) had asked, rather taken aback

“He’s got sort of a rugged-outdoorsy-bad-boy thing going on. He’s like the type of guy I’d date to piss off my parents.” The same girl chimed.

That made (y/n) laugh. Nothing could be further from the truth. Daryl was a bad boy in no way, shape, or form. He was a socially repressed nerd who can’t talk to women, not that that had stopped her or Carol from forming bonds with him, but still; it had been a great effort to get him to reciprocate or accept romantic gestures without flushing or freezing up.

“Yeah, also he’s got some great arms. And that bike? Let’s just say It’s not the only thing I’d like to ride.” Another added.

The rest of the girls giggled, and it brought a bright blush to (n/n)’s face as well as a wave of rather possessive anger to the pit of her stomach. The girls didn’t seem to notice because she was suddenly swarmed with questions.

“What’s his deal, is he seeing anyone?”  “You’ve known him a while, do you know what his type is?” “What’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen him do?”

That one really ticked her. she suddenly whipped towards the questioning girls and in a conspiratorial murmur, she spoke.

“I once watched him shoot a squirrel out of the air from thirty feet away.” That caught a few ‘ooh’s and girlish squeals, “an’ then…” she said, building the tension as the girls eagerly leaned in, wanting to know more about the rugged, stoic hunter.

“…I watched him skin it an’ eat it raw with his bare hands.”

She got a sick sort of delight from watching their smiles drop in disgust.

It got those three girls to avoid her and her archer for the rest of the afternoon, but there was still the lingering thought that someone else in this band of newcomers might have their sights on him. She’d never had to worry about someone possibly stealing him from her before, and the thought, while most likely ridiculous, put her on edge.

They’d still been dancing around each other, questioning with every gesture, _“What are we?”_

It was time one of them gave an answer.

~

That night, at dinner, she spotted one of the girls from laundry duty eyeing Daryl from his position across the room. He was all stiff, clearly still uncomfortable with all of the new additions.

 It looked as if the girl was gearing up to approach him, despite what (y/n) had shared earlier, and in a huff, she put down the spoon in her hand and got up from the table to march over.

Once she was in front of him, she could see the confusion on his face. It almost mirrored the expression he’d had that first night in the bunker when she’d walked up to him in nothing but a towel and pulled him into a kiss. She was much more clothed now, and she wasn’t kissing him, but the subtext and implication of where they were going as she took his hand with a smile and started leading him out of the cellblock held significantly more intimacy.


	30. All Good Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the fuck is up, two chapters within the span of like, three hours. enjoy all this fluff because soon it's gonna be angst city.

Everything was bright after that. Quiet and happy. Life moved forward, and the prison was rebuilt into something better. Something that not only protected its occupants but provided for them. allowed them to thrive.

And thrive, they did. They took in not just the Woodberry folks, but also anyone they came in contact with, so long as they answered the three questions that Rick had developed. It was a good system, and once it was put in place, Rick stepped down, like a king gracefully stepping down in the wake of democracy.

“Rick… when I said you couldn’t lead on your own, I didn’t mean ‘quit’. I just meant-”

“-I know what you meant, (n/n). You were right. You always seem to be, which is why I want you on the Council; Daryl, too. This is my decision. I need some time away.”

She couldn’t deny that. After everything they went through, he needed to take a breather.

“Okay, but just know that we’ll be ready for you to take over again once you’re ready. An’ you _will_ be ready again at some point.”

That was months ago now. Maybe almost a year, she didn’t quite know. It was hard to keep track. It was getting warmer, which was the only way they knew time was passing.

Much like the prison, (n/n) had blossomed, too.  With the safety of stronger walls, and more people she could trust, came a more carefree version of herself. One that could joke and mess around. She could be like she was at the start. She could be like she was Before.

Carl had, at some point, started speaking with her again, and when she’d caught him in her and Daryl’s room rummaging through her survival gear, she retrieved the shears from a shelf Daryl had installed to display the few keepsakes they had and put them into the boy’s sheepish and eager hands. He’d worn them ever since despite Rick’s request that he didn’t carry weapons.

Rick seemed to be hesitant about anything that seemed violent, which was why he’d huffed and puffed over (y/n) starting to teach the others self-defense, but she’d pointed out that he wasn’t in charge anymore, and that had been the extent of the argument. She’d do tai-chi sessions in the morning (a lot of the older ladies really seemed to enjoy the early morning meditation class), and directly afterward, she’d teach practical defense and weaponry ( A lot of the younger survivors seemed to like _that_ ).

When she’d first announced that she’d be offering such lessons, a few of the able-bodied men that hadn’t been a part of Woodberry's raid on the prison had scoffed at the idea of a woman teaching them how to fight, but they quickly got passed it once she’d handed each of them their own ass. After this encounter, one of her students had made a habit of trying to catch her off guard and surprise her into submission. He hadn’t yet succeeded.

She was a public figure now, as were the rest of her family. Hell, people even looked up to Beth and Carl.

Everywhere she went, she was greeted warmly with a ‘Miss (y/n)’ or a ‘Dr. (l/n)’, but most of the time, they just called her (n/n). Daryl got much of the same treatment, if not more, and did not enjoy the spotlight half as much.

Their relationship was on the same level of gossip as Glen and Maggie’s; everyone seemed to love the fact that they were together, and when people talked about romances in the prison, a good portion of the time, the conversations started with ‘The Rhees’ or with ‘Daryl and (n/n)’. when this fact was ever brought up to Daryl, he always became awkward and uncomfortable, stating that people needed to ‘mind their damn business’. So of course, any chance she got, (n/n) was embarrassing him with an abundance of PDA.

She took joy in the fact that he could no longer hide his good intentions behind a gruff façade. Everyone saw his contribution, and everyone appreciated him, which meant everyone took notice of him and his relationships with people.

She had been leaning against the cooking station, joking around with Carol when he approached that morning, a chorus of ‘Morning, Daryl’s trailing behind him like baby ducks.

“Just so you know, (n/n) and I liked you first,” Carol informed in a cheeky tone.

“Stop,” was his only response as he popped a few raspberries in his mouth.

(y/n) giggled, moving from her position sprawled over the counter to move towards him, and run an open palm over his chest. “You’re startin’ to become Mr. Popular. I’m gonna start havin’ to beat your suitors back with a stick.” She permeated her statement with a quick kiss to his cheek, feeling the eyes of those passing by on them, and knowing he felt their gaze twofold.

“I said stop.” He whined, trying to untangle her, but really, all he could bring himself to do was grasp her wandering hand.

“Give a stranger sanctuary, keep people fed, you’re going to have to live with the love.” Carol informed him, grinning at the happiness her friends found in each other before she changed the subject, “I’ve been meaning to show you two something.”

She motioned for a boy who’d originally come from Woodberry to come and take over the meal preparations, and before they could take off to wherever Carol wanted to take them, the boy stopped, giving an awkward and formal thank you to Daryl for providing the deer he’d come back with the other day. The boy had even addressed him as ‘Mr. Dixon, Sir,’ And requested a handshake. One that Daryl tried to make him regret by licking his fingers first, but the boy had simply beamed at him.

Carol motioned for the two to follow her, and as they made their way from the boy, (y/n) whispered to her under her breath: “I’m gonna call him that durin’ sex tonight, I wanna see what he does.”

Carol broke into a fit of snickers that (y/n) mimicked.

~

The thing Carol had wanted them to see was the abundance of walkers lining the fence.  
Daryl had been planning a run for weeks now and was finally ready to execute it, but unfortunately, he couldn’t bring as many people as he’d wanted to because now, with the buildup, they needed almost everyone they could to keep the fences clear.

“Sorry, Pookie.” She’d said playfully, pouting a bit as she looked up at Daryl. He’d scoffed, but (y/n) shook her head, giggling a little.

“We should be fine, Carol. I’ve scoped this place out, I know what to expect. We’ll take whoever we can spare an’ be in an’ out. A smaller group works better, anyway.”

If only execution was as easy as planning.

~

(y/n) grinned wide as she helped Daryl load the truck.

In the background, she could hear Beth and her boyfriend’s playful banter. Beth kissed his cheek before walking away, prompting the boy to go, “Oka- you gonna say goodbye?”

“Nope.” The girl had called over her shoulder.

“It’s like a damn romance novel,” Daryl grumbled as he continued to heft supplies.

“Oh, hush up, you; we used to be just like that.” (y/n) chided playfully prompting the boy, Zack, to correct her.

“You’re _still_ like that.”

                                                                                                                                                          

They were almost out of the gates when she spotted Michonne. (y/n) had given a pleased and excited squeal, quickly twisted to hop off the still moving bike, stumbled a bit, and vaguely heard Daryl’s peeved complaint of “Jesus, Princess, at least wait for me to slow a bit,” before she was ambushing the other woman in a tight and energetic hug that was eagerly reciprocated.

“I’ve been so bored,” she whined to her friend, “everyone else is afraid to spar with me--‘cept Daryl—an’ he’s too easy to predict.”

The other woman chuckled.

“We’ll have to get in a few rounds before I leave, then.”

(y/n) groaned, Michonne’s comment insinuating that she _still_ wasn’t finished with her search for the governor.

Daryl stopped in front of the woman, greeting her as well, and eventually, their conversation shifted to him.

“I’m thinking of looking over near Macon.” She informed.

“You really think that if he went that far that he’d bother comin’ back this way?” (y/n) asked warily. She couldn’t voice her concerns over the safety of her friend the way she wanted, she knew they’d only be struck down.

“It’s worth a shot” Michonne defended.

“70 miles of walkers, you might run into a few unneighborly types, Is it?”

She had no response, but to instigate a harsh silence. The Governor was a sore subject for her. (y/n) didn’t think there would ever be a time when he wasn’t.

So, she decided to change it.

“We’re about to hit up that big ol’ spot Daryl’s been goin’ on about,” she informed, nodding over to the man as she moved to sit behind him on the bike again, “You should come,” she added, practically begging Michonne to join them.

“She just got here,” Carl stated, upset at the thought of not spending any time with her, Michonne quelled his fears with the assurance that she’d be back as she moved to get in the minivan trailing behind Daryl and (n/n).

~

Daryl had just pounded on the glass of the storefront, leaning casually against the building as he waited for the walkers to be drawn out. (n/n) sat right down next to him, plopping on the ledge outside the window in a huff, and gripping his thigh.

Zack watched their casual stall with confusion, and Daryl told him to ‘just give it a second’ as he lazily wrapped his arm around the woman beside him.

“Okay, I think I’ve got it,” Zack informed cockily.

“Oh boy, here we go.” (y/n) hummed in amusement, prompting Michonne to ask:

“Got what?”

“Mind Freak over here’s been tryin’ to figure out what Daryl did ‘fore this whole mess. It took ‘im three weeks to guess mine, an’ that’s on top of the fact that he already knew I had a doctorate in somethin’ medical.” (y/n) informed, squeezing Daryl’s leg in her grip when she felt how uneasy he was getting.

“He’s been guessin’ for like, six weeks.” Daryl griped.

“Yeah, I’m pacing myself. Oneshot a day.”

“Alright, shoot.” Daryl relented, knowing it was easier than explaining why it made him so uncomfortable.

“Well, with the way you are at the prison,” the boy started smartly, “you being on the council, you’re able to track, you’re helping people but you’re still being kind of…”

“Socially inept?” (y/n) supplied, leaning her chin on his shoulder lovingly as she did so.

“I would have said surly, but sure,” Zack continued before letting the conversation have a weighted pause for his answer:

“Homicide cop.”

(y/n) and Michonne looked at each other, both rather amused at how far off the mark the boy was. Michonne broke out into laughter, and (y/n) followed.

“What’s funny?” Daryl challenged.

“Nothin’, Lover.” (y/n) assured, and Michonne added: “It makes perfect sense.”

Daryl played along for a while. “Actually, the man’s right. I was undercover. I don’t really like talkin’ about it ‘cuz it was a lot of heavy shit, you know?”

(y/n) tried to hide her amusement as she hummed and nodded along, an obviously fake and over-exaggerated look of agreement overtaking her features.

“Dude, c’mon, really?” Zack asked as if even he knew how bad his answer was. He received a deadpan look from Daryl and a loud snort from (n/n).

“(n/n), d’you know?” The boy asked.

“Of course,” she responded easily, leaning further into the body that had its arm around her.

“Give me a hint? just one? please?”

“Oh, now, where would be the fun in that?” she supplied, feeling a grateful squeeze from her partner at not giving anything away.

He was rather sensitive about who he used to be, and while he’d told her, it’d taken a lot of coaxing and she still didn’t know the whole story. She just had bits and pieces that she was beginning to form into a whole puzzle. She wouldn’t jeopardize seeing the finished image for anything.

As she finished talking, a few walkers began to bang on the glass, and it was time to get to work.

“We’re gonna do this, detective?” Michonne quipped affectionately,

“Let’s go.”

~

(y/n) paced her cell angrily, yanking at her hair and grumbling to herself. How? How could she have been so... careless?

She’d _agreed_ with Sasha that Bob wasn’t ready to go on a run, she’d _thought_ Zack had been too naive and cocky to be going.

_And too young, too._

She spared a glance at the small heart-shaped rock sitting on the shelf Daryl had built. Zack had given it to her shortly after he’d arrived at the prison, having developed a small crush on the woman.

_“It’s cold and hard, and cute. Like you.” he’d said like he was being clever._

_She’d ruffled his hair._

_“Nice try, but I’m too old for you.”_

_he started to argue, and she cut him off;_

_once,_

_“-An’ I’m seein’ somebody,”_

_twice._

_“-an’ I’m way outta your league, kiddo.”_

He’d quickly moved on to Beth, but she’d kept the rock. She didn’t know why.

Staring at it now, she gave a sad sigh and shifted her gaze to the door, finding Daryl there.

“How’d she take it?” (y/n) asked, not bothering to specify.

“Well. A little too well, actually, I’ll have to talk with Maggie ‘bout it.”

(y/n) sighed, staring down at the floor.

“I should have said somethin’. I thought it was dumb for him to be goin’, I thought a lot of things about our execution were probably not great ideas, but I thought it would be fine. It’s been goin’ so well that I just… forgot.” She rambled.

“We both did.” He assured, trying to help her shoulder her guilt.

“Yeah, an’ we both thought we scoped that place top to bottom. How many times did you, me, an’ Sasha go over that place? Not. Once. Did we ever check the roof. Never again.”

He shushed her, moving to rub up and down her arms, “You’re shiftin’ into Soldier-mode again.”

“Is that such a bad thing? Soldier-mode keeps us alive, Daryl.”

“What’d we agree? Not in the bedroom.” He reminded firmly.

She nodded, forcing the tension out of her stance, and the doubting and edged thoughts from her mind, which was how she realized that one of his fists was closed as he ran it over her arm.

“What’s in your hand?” she questioned, trying to pry his fingers open, but he jerked his hand out of her grasp, opening his palm away from her, and using his other hand to pick up one of the objects to hold it up to her in the dim lamplight of the evening.

She blinked.

“Is that...?”

“It’s as close to one as Glen an’ me could get. It’s surprisingly hard to find 'em unless you go lootin’ the really old walkers, but by now, they’re all covered in grime an’ dead flesh. Not really very romantic.”

She let out a sharp breath from her nose, both in amusement at the comment and bewilderment at the gesture.

“Are you sure?” she asked in a small voice.

He looked her over, giving a hint of a smile as he nodded.

 “You want it?” he asked, still not liking being so vulnerable, even around her.

“Of course, I want it. You better put that damn ring on my finger right now ‘fore I grab it from you.” she assured, shifting from foot to foot with a big, dumb, grin.

He did as he was told, grasping her hand gently as he slid the ring onto her finger. Still sitting in the hand he’d had closed was a second one; a simple band, and she eagerly snatched it from him so she could mimic his gesture.

When she finished, she looked back up to lock eyes with him. He was scanning her face, the hint of a smile he’d had earlier only growing since it’d appeared. “I know they’re just jewelry, we didn’t really say anythin’ or have a party or whatever, but… this still feels… different.”

She admired the ring she'd just put on Daryl's finger for a bit before she added, “(n/n) Dixon… I actually really like that.”

He chuckled, curling a finger under her chin to plant a kiss to her lips.

“I kinda like it too… Mrs. Dixon.” He agreed, a little bashful at what he’d just called her.

“Oh, that one’s even better, I think.”


	31. Love Sick

The summer sun shone in through the barred windows, and Daryl couldn’t help but be in awe of what the early morning sun chose to shine down on.

She was sprawled across their bed, still asleep and wearing nothing but a bra and panties with one of his flannels over top.

His Princess.

His  _Wife._

That was something he’d never really thought he’d get to have, but (n/n) had a habit of taking the things he thought he knew and flipping them on their head.

The ring he’d found glimmered brightly on her finger as if it was proud to be there. As if it was proud to signify the bond the two survivors had created in the midst of this nightmare. It was a simple ring. So simple. He wasn’t even sure if the gemstone was real or not, but on her finger, it looked like the most elegant thing in the world.

She must have felt his stare, because as he moved to place breakfast down on the small table in the room, she began to stir, stretching like a cat, and moaning as a hand clumsily came up to rub the sleep from her eyes.

When she finally pried them open, she smiled. Something she did often these days, but it was always brightest when it was just the two of them; alone in these intimate moments.

“Mornin’, Hubby.” She goaded.

First thing in the morning, and she was already trying to get a rise out of him. “Please tell me you’re not going to start calling me that in front of people.”

She moved to sit up and pulled her legs over the side of their bed, giving Daryl the opportunity to stand between them.

“You opened this can of worms, now lay in it.”

“That doesn’t even make sense, Princess.” He growled lightly at her, moving his hands underneath the unbuttoned flannel to run his hands over the sides of her waist.

She smiled again, reaching for his face and tugging him into a light kiss. Just one, to Daryl’s slight disappointment.

She was about to open her mouth again, to tell him that it made perfect sense to her, but she couldn’t even get a word out. She was cut off by a scream emanating from another cell block.

The smile dropped from her face, and they both stared at each other for a second before they were scrambling for their weapons and rushing towards the commotion.

~

“Walkers in D” Glen yelled, spotting Rick rushing towards the noise.

“What about C?” he asked, anxiety over his daughter’s safety overtaking his voice.

(y/n) didn’t bother listening to the rest of the conversation. Instead, she powered ahead, features stony and dark as she sprinted towards D with bare feet, her Sais being held in a strong, confident grip.

Entering the cellblocks, the screaming was deafening, but it didn’t affect her one bit. The whole scene slowed down as she took it all in. She began rushing towards one of the ones on the ground that seemed to have just noticed a little boy, but out of the corner of her eye, she caught a different walker grabbing the arm of a frightened woman. Without hesitation, (y/n) rushed over, pressing her palm against the walker’s forehead so it was forced back just before it had the chance to bite her.

She plunger her sai through the corpse’s head, just underneath its chin, and the woman gave a sobbing thank you before rushing off in the direction (y/n) had originally headed, turning to see a bolt through the walker’s skull, and the kid in Daryl’s grasp. The woman took the boy from him, and now both of them were free to continue on, but at this point, most of the screaming had stopped.

They made one final sweep and looking around, (y/n) had the thought that It wasn’t actually all that bad. There had only been like, what? Eight? That was incredibly manageable. Wherever the breach was, they could handle it.

Then, she really got a look at the walkers in the room. All of them. every single one was a resident. What happened?

She suddenly heard a commotion from the second floor and rushed up the stairs in time to hear Daryl identify a walker as Patrick. One of Carl’s friends.

The others began to sweep the floor, looking for other walkers that hadn’t started to move yet while (n/n) knelt down next to Patrick. Something didn’t feel right about this. If Walkers were the only cause of this, then there’d be some unfamiliar faces mixed in with their people, but the only casualties she counted were their own.

She inspected the boy. If he’d been turned during the night, he’d have had a bite somewhere on his front, but the only thing close to a wound she found anywhere on his body was the streaks of blood from his nose and eyes.

She scrunched hers in confusion before following Rick and Daryl down the hall.

~

She’d had to leave the cellblock for a bit to return to C and get properly dressed. After the dust had settled, she’d been trying to talk with the others but Glen had taken one look in her direction and averted his gaze. “Nice outfit, (n/n).” He'd muttered, trying to lighten the mood.

She looked down, first in confusion, then in embarrassment as she casually buttoned up the flannel. “Just woke up when I heard the screamin’.” She defended before she made her way back down the stairs to get dressed.

On her way out, her foot landed in something wet, and she almost slipped. The only thing keeping her aloft being Sasha’s grip on her arm. They looked at each other before they turned their gaze to the puddle of blood she’d just stepped in.

She shuddered slightly, thanking Sasha before she headed to the showers to clean off her foot.

~

(y/n) returned just in time to hear the others discussing the odd state of some of the walkers, trying to figure out the cause.

“Choked to death on his own blood. Caused those tracks down his face.” Hershel stated pointing out the walker’s markings.

“I’ve seen them before, on a walker outside,” Rick stated.

“I saw them on Patrick, too,” Daryl added before (y/n) pipped up, twirling the glasses in her hands.

“He was complainin’ about bein’ sick yesterday. Found his glasses in the shower room, I think he was tryin’ to cool his fever down when it happened.”

The doctor began explaining the disease, using a lot of medical terms that (y/n) knew that she once knew, but she found herself struggling to comprehend what he was saying, now. It was like hearing things in a foreign language you only sort of spoke. She picked up one or two words, enough to comprehend what he was saying, but a lot of this was becoming gibberish to her.

It hit her like a truck. How much she was forgetting about her old life. She couldn’t remember her medical training, or her dog’s name, she couldn’t picture her father’s face, anymore. Or what his voice sounded like. It was as if that had all been the memories of someone else that had been watered down and planted in her brain.

She snapped out of her daze when she heard Hershel declare: “All of us. We’ve all been exposed.”

~

The Council meeting was rather macabre.

“Patrick was fine yesterday, and he died overnight. Two people died that quick? We’ll have to separate everyone that’s been exposed.”

“That’s everyone in that cellblock. All of us. Maybe more.” Daryl added, his hand clutching (y/n)’s tightly, as if maybe if he just held her tight enough, she wouldn’t catch whatever was going around.

“This sickness can be lethal. We don’t know how it’s spread. Is anyone showing symptoms that we know of?”

“We can’t just wait and see, we have children here. It isn’t just the illness, if people die, they become a threat.”

Their discussion continued, deciding to bring all of the sick to cellblock A.

 “One of us should help him. Our Doctor. We can’t just leave 'im alone with all those sick people to tend.” (y/n) spoke up for the first time since the meeting started, “Two of the people on the council have medical trainin’ in one area or another, it’d look pretty bad if we just stood around an’ watched while our people died. Hershel, you’re in your seventies, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go. Your immune system might have weakened, an’ to top it off, you’ve already lost a leg.”

Daryl whipped his head in her direction, squeezing her hand even tighter. “What the hell are you suggestin’?”

She eyed him, already aware that he knew exactly what she meant.

“No! no way in hell are you goin’ in that cell block if you don’t have to.”

“If things get worse, an’ more people get sick than the doctor can tend to at once, then I  _might_  have to.” She informed softly.

“Princess, we just… we  _just_ …” he couldn’t get the words out, but she knew what he was trying to say _._

She took his grasping hand into both of hers, patting it with the hand that held her ring finger, still glistening in the sunlight pouring in from outside as they heard a woman begin to cough outside the library door.

~

As much as everyone hoped and prayed that the sickness was over and done with, it soon became apparent that that wasn’t the case. On top of that, someone had killed and burned two people, most likely in an attempt to keep the sickness from spreading.

(y/n) had gotten into an argument with Daryl earlier in the day. He was planning on going out to the veterinary collage with Michonne in search of antibiotics, and she’d turned down his request to go with him.

 she was sweating profusely, wiping her wet forehead with a clammy hand. God, it had been so hot out.

“I’m sorry, but I just think I’m of more use here. I used to study illness for a living, I might be able to help.”

He growled, “no, what you  _might_  do is get yourself killed. I don’t want you anywhere near that place.”

“That’s not really your decision, is it? You could get yourself killed drivin' through 50 miles of walkers an’ who knows what else, you don’t see me tellin’ you to sit here on your thumbs."

“That ain’t what I’m tellin’ you to do, either.”

She huffed, crossing her arms, and he softened just a bit, realizing he’d started to bark at her.

“Look, I’d just feel better if you were with me, so I wouldn’t have to worry about whether you were sick, or dead, or bein’ eaten by one of your patients.”

She nodded, softening a bit as well.

“an’ I get that. Look, I’ll only go if it gets worse, an’ I’ll wear gloves an’ a mask the whole time, okay?”

She gripped his hand, and he reluctantly pulled away, muttering about how they weren’t supposed to touch each other.

“I gotta take care of some things right now, but I’ll see you off ‘fore you go,” she continued, but he still didn’t like it, and it was obvious by the way his whole body tensed and how he looked away from her that he wanted to argue the point some more.

“Hey,” she soothed, moving to catch his eye again, “I survived gettin’ lost in a herd, eight months on the road, and a murderous psychopath. I’m not gonna get taken out by a little cold, okay?”

She scoffed at that scene now. It had been almost 45 minutes, and the heat she’d felt had only gotten hotter. The corners of her vision were starting to blur, and as she sat on the cot in the cell she’d taken in D, she felt the urge to cough start to claw it’s way up her throat. She tried to force it back down, but the more she fought the more urgent the need became until she was hacking violently, and desperately gasping for air in between fits of the most violent wheezing she felt she’d ever experienced.

When it finally settled, she moved the back of a shaky hand across her mouth. Pulling it back, she spied the unmistakable smear of blood across her hand. It was only a little, but she wasn’t fool-hearty enough to think it wasn’t going to get worse.

She looked up at the doorway after hearing a soft gasp to find Carol. The woman looked horrified, and grief-stricken and betrayed all at once.

She must have been a sight. Her breathing was heavy and labored, she could feel the sweat pouring down her face, and she was certain that the blood she’d wiped from her mouth had smeared over her chin.

There were so many things (y/n) wanted to say to her, but nothing wormed its way out of her mouth.

_ I was going to go to Block A anyway. _

_ Don’t look at me, I don’t want you to remember me like this. _

_ I’m sorry, I’m leaving you, too. _

Finally, she managed to let something out.

“Don’t tell Daryl.”

It wasn’t a very reassuring thing to say, but she went with it.

“I don’t want him to freak out. he’s goin’ on that run to get medicine, an’ if he knows I’m sick it might get to his head. I don’t want him to get tripped up an’ kill himself out there.”

Carol wanted to say something. She wanted to say many things all at once, but instead, she simply formed her mouth into a watery, but tight line and nodded, moving along to wherever she had been heading.

~

(y/n) took a shower, put on fresh clothes, and tied a handkerchief around her mouth and nose. She looked better, but she certainly didn’t feel it. The wet tendrils of hair that she let down to air dry helped mask the fact that she was sweating like cold cuts in a desert. She wanted so badly to just lay down and take a nap, but she promised Michonne and Daryl that she'd meet up with them before they left.

as she approached the car they were flling with gas, she attempted her most healthy sounding hello. Her greeting was muffled due to the mask she wore, but they heard it, and Daryl approached once he identified that it was her.

“So, you’re really goin’ in there?”

She sighed, forcing down a cough before she spoke.

“Daryl, I have to. You have your way of helpin’ an’ I have mine. Apparently, Dr. S caught the virus. He needs extra hands to help him tend to the patients. There's only two people in here that have any clue what to do if he ends up succumbing, and I’m one of ‘em. I can’t afford to leave.”

He pouted but began to slowly nod at her. he moved to kiss her forehead, but she shoved at his shoulders in a panic.

“No! Don’t!” she cried desperately as she pushed him away.

She immediately schooled her features at his confused expression and meekly offered, “as you said earlier, we’re not supposed to touch each other.”

With a bit of suspicion, he nodded again and moved to get in the car. She waved weakly at them and as they drove towards the gate, Tyreese called out to her.

“Good luck, (n/n). And, uh, look after Sasha.”

She gave him a thumbs-up and continued to wave them off until they were out of sight. She took a deep breath that was cut off by a cough and began to trudge her way towards A block.


	32. Bucket Lists

(y/n) felt at the pulse of one of the elderly women under her care.  Faint. Only a little longer now. With a sigh, she moved from the cell, turning to lock the door behind her. She breathed in, small, ragged and fragile. It turned into a cough. Then a few more. She’d been coughing up a lung intermittently for hours, but she’d been careful to muffle it. This time she just couldn’t as she clung to the bars, she began to cough through her nose and kept her mouth shut, doing anything to dull the sound. Hershel, a few cells down, stopped what he was doing with the patient he was attending to look at her. The tears forming in her eyes from the force of her fit gave her the perfect cover as she began to make crying noises. Soft little moans to cover the coughs.

Hershel walked over, rubbing at her back as she began to take deeper breaths, the coughs spacing out as she began to calm down.  She blinked hard, trying to get the tears to fall, and they did. “You can’t save them all, (n/n),” Hershel whispered to her.

“Seems like I can’t even save one of ‘em.” She whispered, “I thought my trainin’ would help, but the more I try to recall the less I remember. I can’t do anythin’ about it. I don’t know why I thought I should do this.”

The older doctor continued to soothe her as she lamented; “I thought I’d save the day. I used to be a Virologist, I thought I could help these people, find a cure, but there’s nothin’ I can do from in here. I don’t have a lab. I don’t have the equipment. Back at the CDC, I was always behind the scenes. Detached. I wasn’t at their bedsides, I wasn’t tryin’ to make ‘em comfortable, I was lookin’ at the skin under a microscope and watchin’ for symptoms from the other side of a window. But here an’ now… It’s hard. I know these people.”

She shook her head as she stared at the unconscious woman in the cell, “Mrs. Hannoford, She said hello to me every mornin’, always asked me how ‘that sweet boy Daryl’ was, askin’ me when we were gonna get hitched, have babies… It used to make me uncomfortable. I’d do my best to avoid her some days ‘cuz I knew she was gonna ask. Now I just wish…” She sniffed.

“Well, it doesn’t matter what I wish. I don’t have time for wishin’. I promised Ty I’d check in on Sasha.”

Hershel moved to stop her then, “You’ve been going non-stop for a while. You haven’t slept or eaten that I’ve seen, and you look exhausted…pale, too…” he trailed off, attempting to feel her forehead, but she swatted him away, moving a few steps out of his grasp.

“I’m fine. If I stop goin’, you’ll be all on your own tendin’ to these people. I’m just a little overworked is all. I’ll hit the showers, splash a little water on my face. It’ll cool me down and keep my eyes from gettin’ puffy.”

Hershel eyed her suspiciously as she hurried towards the cell block shower room. “Just… take it easy, (n/n). I know you’re an adult, but I’d like to think of you as one of my own daughters. I’d hate to see something happen to you.”

She paused in the archway to turn around and smile, even though he couldn’t see it behind her mask before she moved into the shower room, leaning against the wall out of sight.

Shakily, she pulled the mask down, eyeing the inside of the fabric. A small smattering of blood was splashed onto the threads, bright crimson and shiny in the dull light of the room.

 

She stared as she idly wiped at the corner of her mouth, only to feel it dry. Hesitantly she touched further up her face, brushing her nostril and coming back with blood on her fingertips. So, she was bleeding from her nose now too, huh?

“Daryl, Michonne… hurry.” She whispered shakily as she did her best to quickly clean herself off.

When she was finished, she cupped a bit of water into her hands, sipping it into her mouth and swishing it around before spitting out the now pinkish-red water into the drain.

~

She sat at Sasha’s bedside, or- floorside, idly running a cool cloth over her forehead. she began to cough, and (y/n) leaned back, retrieving the bucket behind her.

Sasha grabbed it from her, spitting blood into it before falling back against the pillows again.

“I’m glad Ty decided to go on the medicine run, I wouldn’t want him to remember me this way.” she croaked weakly.

(y/n) hushed her, “don’t you dare say somethin’ like that. You’ll recover.”

At Sasha’s deadpan look, she stressed, “you will.”

she coughed once more, lulling her head to the side to look at (n/n) as she ran the cool cloth over Sasha’s mouth to wipe the blood from her face, “I still don’t get why you locked yourself in here by choice.”

“I wanted to help. ‘s what I wasted eight years of my life in school for.” She joked; voice muffled by the mask that truly wasn’t doing her any sort of good against the cesspool of germs she was surrounded by.

“no one expected you to, though. Doctorate or not, you’re no doctor anymore.”

“No, you’re right. I’m not.” She agreed weakly, “I thought I should do somethin’, though. I thought I had to try. “

She gingerly got up from the floor, blinking as the world began to grow fuzzy.

“(n/n), you alright?” Sasha asked, trying to sit up as she watched her start to sway,

“I’m fine. Just overtired. I haven’t slept since the outbreak.” She waved the woman away clumsily.

“I don’t think that’s it. You look clammy, (y/n). You should sit back down.”

“No, no. I’m fine, I just have to keep… working…” she trailed off as the room tilted and went black.

~

When she awoke again, she was being pulled from the cool floor by Hershel who was easing her onto the cot in Sasha’s cell.

“Is she alright?” she heard her friend’s worried voice ask weakly from the floor.

“I knew it.” Hershel sighed, “She’s caught the virus. Who knows how long it’s been since she’s been sick, she’s been running around anyways.”

(y/n) coughed a few times while trying to respond, “I can’t afford to rest, I came in here to help, I should still be,” she paused to cough a few more times, reaching for Sasha’s bucket to spit her blood-red saliva into.

 “…helpin’.”

She dropped the pail to the floor before flopping onto her back, breathing heavily from the effort.

Hershel sighed, informing her he couldn’t tend to the patients if he had to keep an eye on her to make sure she didn’t faint again and to just stay in bed. After trying to argue, she begrudgingly conceded. She couldn’t even get through a sentence without coughing.

~

The walkers were closing in. they only had a few seconds to climb out the window and make it to the landing before the were cornered. Miraculously, the group had made it, but their straggler, Bob stumbled and was now fighting with an ever-growing mob of walkers to reclaim the bag that had fallen over the ledge.

The others pleaded with him to just drop it but he refused to give in as he yanked upwards, and the bag flew up and back onto the ledge.

Daryl heard something make a suspicious clink, and as he looked at the open bag, he spotted its lone occupant. A bottle of liquor.

“You got no meds in your bag? Just this?” he stated in a flat, unimpressed tone.

Bob reasoned that he wasn’t going to hurt anyone, but it only made Daryl angrier.

Wasn’t going to hurt anyone? He already hurt people. He wasted valuable time and resources by grabbing the bottle, and by struggling to keep it. His wife was in A Block, risking her life to tend to their people, and this guy was wasting time fueling an addiction?

She could be dead right now or dying, all for one bottle of liquor.

He moved to toss it, but Bob demanded that he stop, putting a hand to his gun. Daryl got in his face, grabbing the pistol from the man and forcing him to back up with his mere presence.

He hadn't been this angry in a long time. He hadn’t wanted to beat someone this bad since he’d gotten together with (n/n). This was his father’s anger. It was his brother’s, and he knew he shouldn’t indulge it, but the thought of the woman he loved; pale, and clammy, struggling to survive while this guy clung to a bottle of whisky with white knuckles made it hard to care about whether or not he was acting like a thug.

“Just let it go, Daryl, the man’s made his choice. There’s nothing you can do about it. You just gotta let it go.” Tyreese reminded him as he gripped Bob’s shirt, forcing the shorter man to meet his angry, wild stare.

After a beat, Daryl stepped back, shoving the bottle into Bob’s chest before he got back in his face.

“You take one sip ‘fore those meds get to our people, or if we get back, an’ I find that (n/n)’s gotten sick an’ died, I’ll beat you into the ground. You hear me?”

~

It had been an hour or two or four since she was helped onto the cot; she couldn’t really tell as she’d been drifting in and out. After a while, she became too nauseous to go back to sleep, so instead she turned to Sasha, who was breathing just as shallowly as she was.

“Hey, you wanna play a game? It’ll help pass the time. ‘s called ‘Die First’. Winner eats the loser, wholesale. No hard feelin’s.

Sasha groaned.

 “(n/n)… no.”

(y/n) let out a small giggle, that turned into a wheezing cough. She was dizzy, nauseous, dehydrated, hungry… she didn’t bother drinking or eating anything, she knew it’d just come right back up.

“But seriously, I have a game. You ever make a bucket list?”  she asked.

“(n/n), I said no. Just let me die in peace.”

“Well, we gotta pass the time somehow, an’ keep tabs on each other. I’d like a bit of warnin’ before you start rippin’ my windpipe out, wouldn’t you?”

She groaned again.

“You got a better idea?” (n/n) asked, “look, it’ll be fun, I promise. I’ll start.” She said, staring up at the ceiling, “I want to get a tattoo. Poke n’ stick.”

“What do you want to get?” she heard her partner drone, monotonous, but playing along at least.

“mmm, I dunno. Maybe…a smiley face… on my ass.”

She heard Sasha breathe audibly out her nose before she informed her that it was her turn.

“I want to find a bowling alley. Go bowling.”

They went back and forth like that for ten or so minutes, listing several things.

Go cliff diving, drive down to the coast and picnic on the beach, cook pancakes for their friends… _successfully,_

“…I want to find someone. Someone that makes everything… less hopeless.” Sasha whispered quietly. Her eyes closed a little bit ago, and she was slowly drifting off.

“Daryl...” (y/n) whispered in response, shutting her eyes tight as she tried picturing him in her head, “I wanna kiss Daryl again.”

She cracked her eyes back open, turning her head weakly. It flopped over as she tried to catch Sasha’s eye.

“Sasha, promise me…if we make it out of this, we’ll complete this list… even if only one of us makes it, we gotta… Sasha?” she furrowed her brows, straining to hear her breathe on the other side of the room, as it was clear she’d lost consciousness. “C’mon, Williams, stay... with me.”

She called her name again, but (y/n) was beginning to fade, too.

Before she could, she was being shaken. Distantly, she could hear Ty shaking Sasha, speaking erratically, but it was a dull drone in the background, her tunneled vision focusing on the two people in front of her cot.  Michonne was shaking her awake, a relieved smile on her face as she watched (y/n)’s eyes open.  The woman gingerly pushed the sick girl’s hair away from her face, while Daryl swore under his breath, trying to find a vein in her arm.

(y/n) grabbed his hand weakly, and he stopped to look at her, “The hell you think you’re doin’, Princess?”

“Other people… need it more.”

He growled, pushing her hand away as he continued to look for an artery. When he did, he swiftly jabbed the IV needle in, clutching at her hand after it was secured.

“Well, Michonne an’ I got the medicine, an’ we say you, Glen an’ Sasha are first.”

She chuckled, frowning and turning from her friends when the laugh turned to a nonstop stream of coughs. No blood this time. She settled again, looking down at the floor, locking eyes with Ty “How’s she doin’?”

The man looked tired, strained, but relieved. “She’s okay. You’ll both be okay.”

~

Things were finally starting to settle. (y/n) still felt like shit, but she could already tell her fever was breaking.

Daryl hadn’t left her side as she laid in the cot, body too heavy to even attempt getting up or moving. She could hardly keep her eyes open, and her breathing was still shallow, and every inhale felt like she was relying on a set of lungs held together by duct tape and a prayer.

There were probably 100 things Daryl could be doing, but instead he was staying by her side.

“…You were sick before I left, weren’t you?” it was phrased like a question, but it wasn’t. there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he was correct.

She sighed, letting out a cough through her nose as her eyelids fluttered closed.

“Why didn’t you say anythin’?” he questioned again.

“I didn’t want you to freak out.” she offered weakly, “I knew you were gonna be afraid either way, but if I wasn’t sick, then there’d be a chance I wouldn’t catch it. If you knew I already had it, it would have gotten to you, and you wouldda done somethin’ stupid.”

he let out a scoff, so she added:

“what, am I wrong?”

He let out a grumble of “No,” but he later tacked on: “It’s just… first lie of the marriage. That was pretty quick.”

She grinned.

“Technically, I didn’t lie. I never said I wasn’t sick.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Princess.”

He kissed her knuckles, and she smiled up at him, using her free hand to caress his cheek, and move a lock of hair behind his ear.

“Speakin’ of sleep, I should get some. Go. I’ll be just fine.”

“You sure?”

“Sure, I’m sure. I’ll sleep off the rest of this cold, and I’ll be on my feet in no time.”

After scanning her condition, and looking about the rest of the cellblock, he nodded, moving from the cot and towards the exit.

“I love you,” she whispered weakly as her eyelids closed and she drifted off.

He hadn’t heard it.  He’d already made it halfway out the door before she’d thought to say anything.


	33. Together, in Spirit

(y/n) didn’t know where she was when she awoke. There was screaming, and everyone was rushing about as she struggled out of her cot. A blast shook the building, and she felt the wall behind her crumble to pieces while she tried to stumble out of the cellblock.

The shock waves from the blast sent her stumbling, and she felt herself cling to the bars of a cell. Mercifully, someone behind her helped her to her feet. “We gotta go!” they urged, and they gripped her arm and began dragging her out the door “We gotta get to the bus!”

She didn’t recognize the voice or the person, but she knew by the look on their face that they knew her.

“We gotta get you on that bus, Miss (y/n).”

She shook him off. “where-” she was cut off by a fit of coughs and another blast from outside.

She tried again.

“Where’s my husband?”

“Daryl’s outside with the others fighting off the attackers.”

She scrunched her face. They were being attacked? Everything was fine just hours ago, who would attack them?

As if reading her mind, her companion answered, “The Governor’s back. He- he killed Hershel.”

(y/n) felt her heart drop. She choked on grief, and the blood left over in her lungs.

“Do Maggie and Beth know?”

“Yeah, they know. Come on. Tyreese said to get everyone on the bus. We all got jobs to do, mine’s getting you out of here so Daryl doesn’t hunt me down and kill me. Yours is to not pass out until we’re safe. can you do that?”

At her shaky nod, he started pushing her outside, and for a moment she was blinded by the sun. Gunshots rang out all around, and she struggled to stay on her feet as a spell of nausea worked its way over her.

“We need to... stop at C first. Judith… a-a-and my… weapons. I have a bag of survival gear in my bunk.” She stated as she moved towards her cellblock.

“No, there’s no time, the bus is going to leave any second, we gotta-”

he was cut off as a sound of gunshots rang in the air, and the force trying to tug her in the other direction finally ebbed.

She didn’t stop to dwell on why the force was gone, she just moved. The inertia from her struggle propelled her forward, and she rushed through the door into the relative safety of the now-empty cellblock.

Through the nap and fever-induced haze, she managed to find her cell. Nothing in the room was touched, Daryl hadn’t been there. She attached the knife Daryl had gifted her over two years ago onto her belt loop, and the familiar weight was the only comfort in the pandemonium she could still hear raging outside. She managed to tug on her jacket and grip her sais. She tried to take the bag on the floor as well, but her feeble, sickly frame couldn’t manage the weight, so she left it, choosing instead to heed the advice of the guy who’d tried to drag her away and make it to the bus. Hopefully, she’d run into someone on the way.

As she opened the cellblock door, she witnessed a slew of walkers trudging through the chaos and into her home. One spotted her and began to make its way up the stairs. With a heavy foot, she kicked it back down. Its skull cracked open on the sidewalk, and in her fevered mind, she thought she’d add a layer of protection.

She cut open the walker, caking herself in blood as she made her way out of her burning home covered in corpse entrails for the second time.

The bus was still there, they were just about to take off and she could hear them screaming at her approach.

“There’s one right outside! We need to go!”

“Wait, wait! That’s not a walker.”

“What? What the fuck?”

One of the bus occupants ran out to grab her just as she collapsed.

“She’s still breathing!”

“Well, get her on board, and let’s get out of here! We can’t afford to wait for anyone else!”

She heard nothing else as everything faded to black around her.

~

She faded in and out after that.

She pried her eyes open once to see the bus jostling around her, speeding down the road, her head in the lap of a woman she recognized in passing. One of the girls she’d had laundry duty with a few times. one of the ones who’d had a crush on Daryl.

Her eyes shut again, and she struggled to get them open once more. When she finally did, it was dark. She struggled to sit up, but the girl hushed her and forced her back down.

“Do you know where you are?” the girl asked in a hushed tone.

“On… the bus?” she croaked. “Where’s Daryl? Or- Glen? Rick? Michonne? Anyone?”

The girl shook her head. “You’re the only council member that made it to the bus. Beth and Glen were both on board at one point, but they went looking for Maggie.”

She took in a shaky breath, exhaling with a whooping cough, and a movement to spit out blood. it didn’t launch very far and ended up just dribbling down her chin. The girl gingerly wiped it with her sleeve.

 “I’m sure they made it out.” she girl whispered. “You’re alright, your fever’s going down, it’s just killing the last of the sickness, now.”

“What… was your name again? I don’t think I ever learned it.” (y/n) pleaded.

“Nina.” The girl supplied kindly, “get some sleep. I’ll wake you when-”

She was cut off. From behind her, a passenger-turned-walker leaned over the seat and bit into her neck. She let out a piercing scream and suddenly the bus was alive with similar shrieks and cries. The bus pulled over as the driver struggled to fend off another dead passenger, and a few more began to attack. With no weapons, and with a lot of them in a weakened state from being sick, it seemed the only one not in danger was (n/n).

The blood was dry and flaking now, but the smell remained just strong enough for none of them to notice. She stabbed at a few, but it became hopeless. There were too many, and it was too hard to identify who was dead, who was dying, and who could still be saved. With a helpless cry, (y/n) struggled her way to the front of the bus where she pulled the lever for the door open and stumbled off. Barley thinking to turn around and try and force the door closed again. She only got it halfway before the walkers noticed her and began to pile up in the stairwell.

Their force and lack of cognitive functioning was just the trick to force the door the rest of the way shut, and (y/n) stumbled back, tripping over her leg and falling to the pavement.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away as the screams continued, and the whole bus rocked. The last thing she saw before she scrambled to her feet and took off for the woods was Nina’s frightened face pressed against the glass as several walkers bit into her arms and neck.

~

“I need a drink,” Beth stated expectantly as she watched him tearing into the snake he’d caught.

With a roll of his eyes, he chucked his water bottle at her. Not bothering to even speak a word.

“No, I mean a real drink.” She corrected as she tossed the bottle aside, “as in alcohol.”

He kept quiet, continuing to chew. He didn’t have time to indulge whatever childish whim she wanted to explore. He’d taken her with him, but now, he was sort of regretting not just going on his own. She was annoying and bossy, and naïve, and a pain in the ass, but damn it, he just couldn’t leave her alone out here, no matter how hard he tried. And you can believe he tried.

Every time he thought about just letting her run off, or packing up in the middle of the night and walking away, a nagging little feeling in the back of his head would sound off and make him huff off after her, or begrudgingly watch over her as she slept. The more time he spent out here, the louder and more persistent the feeling seemed to get. It was developing a voice and an attitude that was all too familiar to him, and he was willing to do what the voice wanted just so he could keep from hearing it and keep from dwelling on how it made him feel.

“I’ve never had one” Beth continued idly, “’cause of my dad. But he’s not exactly around anymore, so…”

She drifted off breezily, trying to get him to respond, but he stubbornly continued to try and block her out.

“I thought we could go find some.” She finished finally, waiting for a response that at this point, she knew not to expect.

The young girl was glad she was with Daryl, she’d always had a crush on him. Even after he and (n/n) got together, in never fully went away. She’d thought he was strong and sweet, but now that she was spending hours upon hours with the guy one-on-one, the sole receiver of his nearly constantly annoyed attitude, she was beginning to wonder how (n/n) put up with it all.

She must have had the patience of a saint.

 _Has._ She reminded herself. _We don’t know for sure that she’s dead._

She waited a bit longer, watching him gnaw on the meat in his hands in silence before she sighed. He wasn’t going to give her an answer. She knew that. She also knew that if she started to walk off, eventually he’d follow. For all his rough edges, he was a good man, and he let her come with him because he wanted her to be safe. So, with a roll of her eyes, she got up.

“Okay,” she conceded, feigning giving up on him, “Enjoy your snake jerky.”

She moved to leave, walking off into the woods, not even slightly worried that her reluctant companion wouldn’t eventually follow.

Once she was out of sight, the nagging feeling reappeared.

 _Why the hell are you so mean to her?_ it nagged with a frustrated huff. _I get that you’re upset, but that doesn’t mean you can just treat her like that. She’s just a kid, an’ she just lost her father. She’s scared an’ grievin’ just like you._

“Shut up,” he growled softly to himself. He could almost picture her.

_You’re pushin’ her away ‘cuz you feel guilty, don’t you even try and deny it. There was nothin’ you could have done for Hershel. Or for Rick, or for me. You can’t blame yourself for shit you can’t control. I know you think you failed her, but you haven’t. Not yet. Not while she’s still alive. So quit treatin’ her like she’s a burden an’ go after her, god damn it._

He continued to chew, staring off in the direction that the blonde girl had just went.

_You know she’s gonna get herself killed without you, right?_

Finally, he threw the snake he was eating to the side, angrily stomping out the embers and leaving their camping stuff behind as he grumbled a “God damn it,” and got up to chase after the girl.

~

Daryl wasn’t sure exactly how, but Beth had managed to guilt him into not only accompanying her on her quest to find a drink but to partake himself.

“I get why my dad stopped drinking.” She stated into the night.

Their escapades had a rather rocky middle, but they’d long since calmed down from that.

“why, you feel sick?”

“No. I wish I could feel like this all the time. That’s bad.”

“You’re lucky you’re a happy drunk.” He muttered.

A hint of a smile wormed its way on to her face, “yeah, I’m lucky. Some people can be real jerks when they drink.”

“Yeah,” he admitted, “I’m a dick when I’m drunk.”

She fiddled with her thumbs a little as she tried and gauge what his reaction might be to bringing her up. “Did… (y/n) ever see you drunk?”

He nodded slightly, a blush beginning to warm his face from something other than alcohol, almost unperceivable in the dark. “Twice. The night we met, and the day after. Remember that fight we had on the farm? It was ‘bout somethin’ that happened while I was… what’d she call it? ‘drunk as a skunk.’”

Beth laughed at the word choice, her heart sinking, and speeding up at the same time when his tone softened with thinly veiled affection. It was silly really. She was nineteen and he was in his… thirties? Forties? They mixed together about as well as spicy food and cheap liquor, he’d been in a relationship for the majority of the time they’d known each other, and they barely interacted with each other before now, but still. She couldn’t help but crush on the guy. Just a bit.

She shook it off. There was no point dwelling on something that would never happen.

She was probably going to die soon anyway.

So, instead, she giggled, “that sounds like her.”

He nodded before he began to shake his head. He began to tell a story. He talked about Merle, and how he’d gotten into a fight with his dealer. How he’d almost gotten killed over a cartoon about a talking dog. She sat there patiently as he finished.

“You want to know what I was before all this? I was nothin’. Nobody. I was some redneck asshole with an even bigger asshole for a brother. When I first met (n/n), she was this…” he made a vague motion with his hands, almost mimicking fireworks “…this spitfire. You didn’t know what she was gonna do at any given moment. Was she gonna be sweet? Sassy? Or was she gonna tear you a new asshole? She was so smart, too. You’d try to get her to do somethin’ she didn’t want to, an’ she’d just start talkin’ circles ‘round you. pullin’ out facts, an’ big words, makin’ you feel like you were this big,” he chuckled, holding up fingers just a hairsbreadth from touching, “I never felt like I was good for her. Still don’t most of the time.”

“You miss her, don’t you?” Beth stated, “I miss Maggie. I miss her bossin’ me around. I miss my big brother, Shawn. He was so annoying and overprotective. And my dad. I just—I hoped he’d just live the rest of his life in peace, you know? I thought Glen and Maggie would have a baby, and he’d get to be a grandpa, I thought you and (n/n) would have a couple, and they’d all call him grandpa, too, even though they weren’t his grandkids…and we’d have birthdays and holidays and summer picnics, and he’d get really old, and it would happen, but it’d be quiet. He’d be surrounded by people he loved.” She laughed, breaking down just a bit at the hopelessness of it all; “that’s how unbelievably stupid I am.” She croaked.

They kept talking back and forth until suddenly, he was the one trying to talk her out of her stupor, and not the other way around.

Her words still rung in his ears as they splashed the moonshine around the cabin later that night.

You’re gonna be the last man standing, and you’re gonna miss me so bad when I’m gone, Daryl Dixon.

When everything was wet, and the stench of moonshine littered the air, he lit the Molotov on the last bottle, handing it to the girl and letting her toss it onto the porch, setting the whole building aflame. For the briefest second, he swore he saw her. a white sundress hugging her body, and her hair flowing long and loose down her back. She smiled at him from the window of the burning cabin, but the second he blinked, she disappeared. He shook it off with a bit effort and even found himself joining Beth as she joyously stuck her middle finger up at the now flaming cabin.

~

Daryl dreamed of her most nights, often it was just memories. Little flickers of her face like pictures. Other times, however, the dreams couldn’t be more vivid. This was one of those nights.

He’s in his home, and there’s some sitcom on tv. It’s exactly how it was before everything went down. The two-person couch was ripped apart, springs sticking out of the cushions at odd angles, the wallpaper dingy and ripped in places, coffee table covered in glass rings and burn marks from putting out cigarette butts and placing down beers without a coaster.

She was sitting right next to him, tucked right up under his arm like it was the most natural thing in the world, but nothing about this was natural. Her short, choppy hair was now long, voluminous, and soft to the touch, falling down her back in lovely waves. Skin clean, not a speck of dirt on her nor any scars or bruises. Her face seemed so different and it took him a second to realize it was because her expression was unguarded. Fully defenseless for the first time. Her brows sat higher on her face, not scrunched to hover over her narrowed, suspicious eyes that were now wide and bright, mouth not pulled into a tight line, but the upward curve natural of cupid-bow lips. Barefoot, and donning a white sundress, she seemed to practically glow with how much she stuck out in the room around her.

He couldn’t see himself, but he knew he looked exactly like he had before. Scrawny. Dirty, though not to the extent that he usually was these days, patchy facial hair hovered around a childish pout.

The scene shifted slightly, and now they weren’t alone. To his left, sat his brother. High as a kite and laughing to whatever was on TV. Daryl turned to see what he was watching, but couldn’t quite make out the program, seeing as the screen was completely shattered. To (y/n)’s right sat a man Daryl recognized as Merle’s dealer. One of them, anyway. He watched helplessly as the skeezy man he only barely remembered moved his hand to (n/n)’s leg and began to move it up, under her skirt. His hand left dirt on her skin in its wake, and no matter how Daryl struggled, he couldn’t move his arm from her waist to stop it. He was paralyzed.

That’s when she chose to speak.

“She once said that it wouldn’t’ve mattered back then, but we both know you an’ her would have never gotten together if the world hadn’t gone to shit. Hell, I never would have even given you a second look. I mean, look around you, an’ then look at me.”

He did as she said, taking in the warped memory of the living room he used to waste his days in, and then looked back at her. The man beside her continued to roam her body with his hands, leaving stripes of something more than dirt, as if he was wiping away the dust on a snow globe, revealing scars and cuts on her skin, and patches of dingy ripped knit shirt and brown bloodstained cargo shorts on her pretty white dress.

“We’re different. You think by knowin’ her, you know me? Well, you don’t. That woman is a husk of what I was. The person you hold at night, the _thing_ that you _fuck_ … That’s just a haunted shell of somethin’ better. Somethin’ special. I was a doctor, she’s a savage, an’ so are you. You just had a head start on ‘er.” She said gesturing around with a grin so wide and full of disdain it seemed to strain her face.

“You don’t even know the first thing about me, do you?” she accused, the skeezy dealer began sucking and licking on her neck, leaving grime and cuts there, too.

“yes, I do,” he argued weakly, his voice coming out higher-pitched and younger than he expected, sounding more like it had at the start.

“You don’t know anythin’, you dumb fuckin’ hick!” she screeched, scorn and hate and disgust flooding her gaze as she pierced him with it.

“She’s got a point, little brother.” Merle piped up, “always have been the dumber Dixon. The less attractive one, too.” He accentuated his point by leaning over Daryl to wink at the angry woman. She spat at him.

“You don’t know my daddy’s name, or if I had pets, the name of my first kiss, my first heartbreak, my favorite color, favorite food-”

“I know your favorite book.” He told her pathetically.

She was quiet for a while after that.

At this point, most of her dress was gone, replaced by the torn-up clothes of her other-self. She looked like his Princess, but she still spoke like a stranger as the dealer began to lick stripes up her face. The lewd gesture revealing a narrowed, heartbroken eye, a pouting frown to the corner of half her mouth, a cut across her cheek, dirt on her forehead…

The other half still glared at him; a gritted tooth sneer only present on half of her face. “it doesn’t matter now, she’s gone. You’ll never see ‘er again.”

He growled back at her. “You don’t know that.”

“Neither do you. Hell, she’s probably dead. You left her alone in there. This makes it; what? The second time you abandoned her in favor of runnin’ off with another woman?” she asked diplomatically. Her tone had no bite at all, but it cut like a knife.

“It ain’t like that.”

“Then how’s it like? She trusted you, an’ you left her. you promised her you wouldn’t leave again, but the second she let ‘er guard down you ran off again. You were supposed to be the person who stayed with her. The person who didn’t forget about her, but you abandoned her; just like everyone else did.”

“Stop it.” He barked, trying to push her away, but still, he was paralyzed; frozen to his position on the couch, not even able to pull away as the dealer finally finished his exploration, revealing (y/n) in all her post-apocalyptic glory. Heartbroken and furious, a look in her eye like a wild, rabid animal as she straddled him.

“Sasha, Tyreese, Glen, Maggie, Rick, Michonne… People who claimed to care for her, to love her, but I doubt they even spared a second to think about her an’ where she was as they ran for their lives. You were her lover, her everythin’ and you didn’t even spare her a thought.”

“Stop!”

“Do you really think if she’s alive that she’s gonna come lookin’ for you? She’s gonna find out you left without ‘er, an’ finally realize that she’s too good for you. she doesn’t need you; she can take better care of herself than you ever could. I bet she fuckin’ hates you.”

“I said stop it!” he struggled against her as her bloodied hands wrapped around his wrists, pinning him to the couch, as his brother and his dealer laughed, each one rotting away until they were nothing but walkers, standing over them like a looming, accusatory presence.

“This is your fault!” her voice was different. Still accusatory, but no longer angry. Now it was sad. So very sad and broken. “You left me! You killed me!”

Their two companions moved, grabbing her roughly with rotted fingers, biting into her neck, chewing and ripping at the flesh, her crimson blood splashing over him, threatening to drown him where he sat.

Her voice was a gurgle now, cold malice threaded through her words as she shakily uttered them to his struggling form.

“You killed me. Not the walkers, not the Governor, you did this. This is your fault, an’ I fuckin’ hate you, Daryl Dixon.”

…

He was shaken awake by Beth, her tiny fingers curling over his bicep as she rocked him in the coffin he was asleep in.

He jumped awake, groggily shaking off her hand as he looked around. It was still dark, but he knew he wasn’t falling back asleep.

“You were dreamin’ about her again.” Beth told him.

“Yeah, I know.”

“We’ll find her.” She soothed, resting her head and arms on the side of his coffin, “If anyone made it out, she did.”

“Yeah?” he challenged, “How do you know?”

“Because it’s (n/n).” She moved to kiss his forehead like a mother soothing her child’s nightmares before she hopped back in her own ‘bed’ and soon, the girl was back asleep.


	34. Snow White

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's up assholes, i'm a sucker for Sliding Doors-style almost-reunited-but-not-quite angst tropes. Also all of Daryl's girls are trapped in the same gott damn hospital havin' a party.

She’d been on the tracks for most of the day, and well into the night. She was tired, hungry, dehydrated, and on the verge of collapsing in a heap of wheezing and blood-spattered coughs when she was spotted.

For a small stretch, the tracks intercepted a stretch of road, and just as she was in the middle of crossing, a pair of headlights shone on her. She’d instinctively rushed across, and hid in the tree line, hoping they’d just pass her by, but alas the car came to a stop right as it drove over the tracks, and (y/n) could finally make out that it was a police cruiser.

Two individuals in full uniform stepped out of the vehicle, and (y/n) watched as they both turned on flashlights and began scanning the woods.

Was she hallucinating? What was going on here? What did they want?

“We know you’re out here, come on out. we want to help.”

She didn’t care if they wanted to give her a pony, and a free trip to Disney Land, she wasn’t moving from her place behind the trees.

“You gotta be tired. Hungry, too, right? We can feed you, give you a place to rest. We got beds, electricity, medical supplies…”

The beam of the flashlight passed over her, paused and then pulled back so it was shining right in her eyes. She clamped them shut, attempting to move away, but in her daze, one of them caught her by the arm.

“There you are, Sweetheart.” He grunted as he lifted her up.

“Leave me be! I don’t want your help!” (y/n) screeched as she struggled against her captor.

“We’re not gonna hurt you, we just want to help. Jesus, Sweetie, you’re covered in blood!”

“None of its mine. I’m tryin’ to reach my people, just let me go!” in her struggle, she began to cough violently, and the officer dropped her. She gasped for breath and wiped the corner of her mouth.

The officer shone a flashlight at her face to get a better look at the woman collapsed on the ground, “I don’t know about the rest, but the blood on your face is  _definitely_  yours, Sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me Sweetheart.” She’d snarled, before she got to her feet, and kicked at the officer attempting to help her up.

She’d stunned both officers with the unexpected gesture and she attempted to run off into the woods adjacent the track but before she hit the trees, she heard the officer yell out

“Freeze!”

She turned over her shoulder to see them with guns out. Her heartbeat hammered in her chest as she sized them up. Hadn’t they just said they weren’t going to hurt her?

“We can’t in good conscience let you just run off in your condition. Either come with us yourself, or we’ll have to take you back with us by force.”

She weighed her options, eyeing the bizarre sight of two decked out officers in a functioning squad car, then turning back to the trees, and gauging the distance she had before she made it.

She took off running for the trees, and right before she rushed past the closest trunk, white-hot pain ripped through her thigh and she was falling to the ground clutching her leg.

“Stubborn idiot,” the officer who’d grabbed her the first time muttered as he swung her over his shoulder and forced her into the back of the cab.

~

She faded in and out while she was back there, and most of the time she was awake, she spent screaming at the men that captured her and trying to break the window.

When they headed into the city, she started struggling even more, until finally, they stopped at a hospital. She struggled to get out of their grips as they eased her out of the car, but they were prepared this time and held her steady, dragging her into the building where she continued to scream and make a spectacle. They continued to promise that they weren’t going to hurt her, that they were trying to help, but (y/n) heard none of it. They’d shot her in the leg and kidnapped her. That’s all there was to it.

The two men stopped when a short, robust woman with a tight bun stepped up to them.

“What’s going on? Who’s this?” she asked sharply, eyeing the smirks on the men’s faces.

“We found her wounded and sick on the side of the road. She was wearing a shirt that was covered in blood. By the stench of it, it was roamer blood.”

The officer stood silently for a moment before nodding and addressing the other woman that was still struggling in her people’s grip

“We’ll help you. we’ll tend to your injuries, and nurse you back to health. You’re alright now, no one’s going to harm you.”

In a fit of rage, (y/n) swung her body, catching the woman in the teeth with a swift and heavy kick.

“Bite me,” She spat before another fit of coughs overcame her, and she promptly blacked out.

~

She was dizzy and disorganized. Underneath her, she could feel the soft support of some sort of bed, and to her left, she heard a heart monitor beeping steadily. Everything was foggy.

Someone was in the room with her, but she couldn’t focus on them, instead shifting her gaze outside the window of the room she currently resided in.

Her gaze rested on the back of a blonde girl’s head, and it struck (y/n) as oddly familiar, though a name didn’t come. Not until the girl turned to the side, and her face became visible to the now fully awake woman.

_Beth._

She sat up in bed way too quickly, her heartbeat picking up with the drone of the monitor. The room spun around her, and suddenly, she felt like she was swimming in static. A cold hand pressed her back down, and the person in the room with her finally came into focus. Slightly younger than middle age, he sported cheap bifocals and a receding hairline.

He spoke, but it sounded muffled.

“Sorry, what?” she croaked out, her voice hoarse from underuse. How long had she been out?

“I said, you’re not supposed to be awake. Dawn didn’t want you overexerting yourself and hindering your recovery.”

She blinked, the words being recognized as English, but not fully registering. The man fiddled with the mask she just realized was around her face and followed the tube all the way to a canister at her feet. When he got there, he exclaimed with a surprised, but unconcerned demeanor.

“Someone shut off the anesthesia. Who’d do that?”

“I-I think I saw my friend outside. Blonde girl? Beth? Can I see her?”

The man looked out the window, possibly to catch a glimpse of the girl in question before he hesitated, and flipped through a form on a clipboard in his hand and took a pen from the pocket of his coat.

“Not just yet, I have to fill out a couple of lines on this sheet, first. Name?”

She gave it, and despite the circumstances, her heart still gave a thrill when she addressed herself as ‘Dixon’. He asked a few more questions like her blood type and her date of birth. Finally, he came to a question that changed everything.

 “Occupation?”

She scoffed and gave him a wry look.

“Listen, can I just see Beth? Please? This is ridiculous.”

“I need an occupation, or Dawn is going to hound me about it.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Assistant Director of the CDC.” She submitted, looking incredibly tired.  
there was silence from her companion. And for a second, she thought she must have said something weird.

“Is there a problem?” she asked, beginning to feel just a tad anxious.

The doctor simply stared down at her, white as a sheet. He uttered a weak, “I’m so sorry,” as he reached down to turn the canister at her bedside back on. Outrage and desperation flooded her eyes as her instincts began screaming at her to rip the mask off, so that’s what she tried to do. The man held her mask down, putting all his weight against her face. She kicked at him, grabbing at his clothes and what little hair he had to try and yank him off so she could breathe something other than the gas that was dulling her senses with every second. He watched her struggles get weaker and weaker until eventually, she was right back asleep.

~

Beth folded towels slowly and quietly at the end of the hall, conspicuously near where Noah just happened to be mopping the floor.

“What’s the next part of the plan?” she whispered.

Noah smiled as if he expected her to praise him for the cleverness of his idea. He briefly motioned towards the locked room on the other side of the hall.

she narrowed her eyes. The entire time she’d been there, that room had been locked. She’d tried to get a look at whoever was inside on a few occasions, but no matter what angle she tried, there was always equipment blocking their face.

“Who’s in there?” she asked.

“Snow White,” he stated like that should mean something.

“Snow White?”

“or Sleeping Beauty, it depends on who you’re talking to. Point is, she’s asleep. But not for much longer.”

Beth shook her head trying to process all this. “How’s she supposed to get us out of here? Who is she really?”

Noah looked up and down the halls, trying to assess that they weren’t going to be overheard before he began to explain:

“She was brought in about three days before you were. Gorman and Lampson brought her in, smirking like they’d just won a prize. She was kicking and screaming even though she was coughing up blood and had a fresh and bleeding bullet wound. Dawn tried to calm her down, but she just kicked her in the teeth--it was awesome--On top of all that, she was covered in roamer guts.” Noah explained

Beth tried to wrap her mind around everything he was saying as again, she tried to get a glimpse at the woman’s face. “Okay, so then what happened?”

“Oh, she passed out. Edwards gave her anesthesia so she wouldn’t wake up while he was fishing the bullet out of her leg, and when he was done, Dawn decided to just… leave her under.”

“Ain’t that a ‘waste of resources’ though?” she questioned.

“Dawn said she was still recovering from whatever made her sick, but Edwards seemed to think she was already 90% recovered. I think Dawn’s afraid of her.”

Beth just gave him a questioning glance as she continued to struggle to get a good look.

“She only knows two things about this lady; one: she’s not afraid to get dirty when it comes to gore, and two: she’s not afraid of Dawn or the other officers. Dawn is scared that when she wakes up, she’ll go on a rampage, and she’s probably not wrong, but she’s got to wake up sometime; and the longer they wait, the angrier she’ll be.”

“They can’t do that!” Beth fretted, suddenly concerned for the woman. “What about anesthesia’s side effects? they could kill her!”

“Yeah, I think that’s what Dawn’s hoping for.”

“Why doesn’t she just kill her then and claim it’s to spare the gas?”

Noah spotted Gorman at the other end of the hall, eyeing Beth as he passed by.

“The officers…like her. If Dawn killed her, they’d oppose her for sure. So instead, she’s kept comatose, and under lock and key so the officers can’t get her, and she can’t get Dawn; or at least she was, until someone went in to mop the floor, and turned off the gas tank,” Noah informed with a smirk. “When she came in, they didn’t find any guns on her, just blades. She’s a fighter, and from the way she kicked at Dawn, I’d say she’s a pretty good one. She’s either going to help us get through the basement, or she’ll go on a rampage and cause a distraction. Either way, she’s-”

He stopped mid-sentence when Dr. Edwards emerged from the room, tousled and looking oddly guilty. He locked the door behind him like he was shoving candy wrappers under the couch cushions to hide them from his parents, and when he turned around and spotted them, he jumped about three feet out of his skin. He greeted them, false casually, but he refused to make eye contact with Beth.

They eyed him as he made his way guiltily down the hallway and around the corner.

Dr. Edwards was a good man, but he was also a coward. His disheveled appearance could never be because he took advantage of a sleeping woman, but it could be from struggling to put her back under anesthesia if she had a profession that might threaten his position.

 Like if she used to work for the CDC.

Noah tried for the door handle after the doctor had left even though he knew full well it was locked. The boy sighed, “Well, I guess we’ll have to find some way to get out of here without her. It’s riskier, but doable.”

he moved to walk in the same direction the doctor just went; he still had chores that needed to be done.

Beth, on the other hand, stayed put for a little bit longer. One final time, she pressed her hand to the glass and tried to move to get even a sliver of a glimpse of the person on the other side. All she managed was a brief flash of matted, (h/c) hair.

Beth sighed before she too moved down the hallway and away from Snow White’s glass coffin.

~

She stirred awake, wrestling with her heavy arm as she pried the mask off her face. Moving to sit up, she felt a numbing tug on her arm, and angrily yanked out the IV drip, tossing it violently to the side. As she slid off the cot and onto the floor, her legs promptly gave out under her. They hadn’t been used for a while, but it seemed like her bullet wound was fully healed.

She struggled to get to her feet, moving into a frog-like stance until she trusted her feet to carry her weight, stretching out her legs a little as she looked around the pristine hospital room.

Judging from the view from her window it was night, and she was in Atlanta, but why? And how long had she been out? She wondered idly if this is how Rick felt when he first woke up from his coma. Looking down, she noticed that she seemed to be wearing hospital scrubs, and suddenly everything came back.

Those cops that kidnapped her, the doctor telling her she was safe, that they were helping… Suddenly, she was furious. For whatever reason, that doctor had drugged her and forced her back under for only God knows how long, she most likely would have been out longer had the tank not obviously run out of gas. That rubbed her very, very wrong and she shook from the outrage at her obduction and the desperation to leave. Steps were heard down the hall, and she instinctively grabbed the IV stand, leaning against it and moving towards the door as it unlocked.

A woman with a frizzy brown bun and a police uniform entered the room, looking surprised at seeing her awake, but shook it off as she feigned concern.

“You’re finally awake. For a second, we thought you never would. Our officers found you on the side of the road, sick and nursing a gunshot wound. Do you remember any of that?”

(y/n) remained silent for a bit, eyeing the woman up. She had a pistol on her belt, but the holster clip was buckled, and her hands were holding a clipboard, meaning she wasn’t expecting (n/n) to fight her. Mistake.

The woman patiently waited for (y/n)’s response, but when it became clear she wasn’t going to get one, she continued.

“Right, maybe not. Officer Lampson said you hit your head pretty hard. Do you remember your name at all? Anything?”

The woman’s question lingered, and (y/n) finally answered with a hard, “I remember.”

The officer waited for her to elaborate, maybe give her name, but she said nothing else.

“...alright, well, we saved you, used resources on you while you were passed out, and now, you owe us.” The woman scribbled something on the clipboard as she talked but looked up and gave (y/n) a hard stare when she said ‘owe us’. (y/n) stared right back.

“Oh, I owe you, alright.” She growled darkly, gripping the pole of the IV stand tighter, but the woman didn’t seem to register the danger in her voice.

She smiled brightly, “Good! Glad you could see it our way. Now, you’ve been out cold for three weeks now, and…”

The woman continued talking but (y/n) stopped listening, taken aback by her words.

_Three weeks._

They’d kept her comatose for almost a month. At that dawning realization, (y/n) felt something that had only ever happened one other time in her life; She felt something crack open inside her, felt the rage pour out. It coursed through her body, white-hot. Threatening to burn her from the inside out if she didn’t find some way to quell it.

Moving her other hand to grip the stand as well, she swung the thing at the woman’s head, smashing the base of it to the side of her skull. The woman staggered but promptly fell to the floor when (y/n) twirled the impromptu weapon, using the lighter end to sweep at her feet before bringing the heavy end back over her head. The swelling pool of blood was the telltale sign that it was over.

(y/n) didn’t feel better; she didn’t feel worse. She wasn’t satisfied, or regretful, but the fire quelled just the tiniest bit. She was just looking to feel empty. Empty, and free.

Looking down, she spied the pistol on the officer’s hip.

She unclipped it.

She felt like if she didn’t douse this fire in her blood she’d likely burst. The rage-filled her with energy, the flames licking at her insides, whispering two words to every cell in her body like a mantra.

_Three weeks. Three Weeks. Three Weeks._

She’d lost so much time.

Her body moved automatically, checking the safety, the clip the barrel… just like Daryl had taught her. she shut her eyes tight. Thinking of him did allow the flames to quell, but in a way that left her restless, and so she tossed the thoughts of him aside, opening the door, and stepping out into the hall. Four officers stood out, one at one end of the hall, two at the other, and the third one, a little to her left.

He was tall and imposing, his bald head shone in the artificial hospital lights. When he saw her leave the room he smiled, though it was more of a smirk as he put his hand on her shoulder. “We were wondering when you’d wake up, Sweetheart.” It held an ominous undertone, and if (y/n) hadn’t planned on doing what she had been, she might have felt a bit threatened as she looked up at the opposing man.

Turning to look to her right, she spied the lone officer, raised the gun in her hand and shot, watching the man go down. The one with his grip on her looked shocked, though not as shocked as he was about to be.

She gripped his shoulder on the same side that he was gripping hers, put the barrel to his crotch, and shot again.

She felt nothing.

His screams were deafening, but (y/n) heard none of them, the ringing in her ears from the state she was in making every sound seem dulled like she was underwater. She forced the man’s gripping arm behind him as she used him as a shield to shoot at the other two officers, who hesitated at first, but two more officers rounded the corner, took in the scene, opened fire, so they did as well.

The heavy body and the Kevlar kept her from taking bullets, but the man she was holding was crying, begging his comrades to stop, though they were hell-bent on taking down the woman holding him hostage.

She managed to take out two more before she ran out of bullets in the gun, moving to hide in the entryway to one of the rooms, she spied a few other patients dressed in scrubs huddling in a corner of the room but paid them no mind. When they saw her enter, they cowered, but she simply dropped the empty gun at her feet and grabbed the pistol from the belt of the wailing officer, putting him out of his misery before peeking out the doorway, trying to take out the last two officers. It was patchy, and a few bullets had gotten close enough to graze her forehead and her shoulder, but she finally managed.

She felt feral and probably looked it, too. She turned to the wards in the room and barked.

“Doctor’s office. Now.”

One gave her squeaky, terrified, directions and she followed them.

down a flight of stairs, up a hallway, turn left. When she finally got to the door, the rage was almost gone, but she had just a few more scores to settle. With frigid resolve, she opened the door to a rather messy office. The guy hadn’t even heard her enter, as he had been blasting something on a boom box.

She shot him in the thigh.

He yelped, turning to lean against the cabinet he’d been facing before he slid down the surface, blood pooling around his leg. (y/n) approached slowly; stone-faced.

“Y-you.” The doctor whispered, as if he hadn’t expected it to be her, but that he knew he should have.

She kneeled in front of him as she growled out. “The lady in charge. The one I kicked in the teeth. Where is she?”

The doctor started to cry, grasping his injured leg desperately as he shook his head. “Sh-she’s dead. Killed in a hostage exchange gone wrong. Sh-she shot a girl, she was crazy.”

She growled, pressing the barrel of her gun against his temple. “Alright, then what about Beth?”

“Beth?” he repeated, seemingly more panicked than before.

“Beth Greene.” (y/n) demanded, shaking the man a little. He seemed at a loss for words, so (y/n) painted him a picture, “this tall, blonde girl, pretty as a rose, loves to sing.”

“S-she was one of our wards being exchanged in the hostage situation. Her people came looking for her. Her, and that other woman.”

(y/n) blinked, and then the rage was gone, dread occupying every nook and cranny it had just left.

“She was the one that got shot, wasn’t she?” she stated, monotone and unbelieving.

The doctor confirmed it.

She stood, tucking her hands between her knees, tears pricking her eyes as she took in a sharp breath and let out a primal wail. The doctor seemed flabbergasted at her sudden agony, but she filled him in.

“She’s dead. They were here, in the buildin’, an’ Beth is dead, an’ I’m still not with them.  _They were here._ ”

The room seemed to sober, both fully understanding the full scope of the situation. She slowly stood back up. This was his fault. He kept her comatose. He probably did it because he was scared, but (n/n) couldn’t see that right now. What she saw was her family slipping from her grasp for a third fucking time.

“Do you know where they went?” She requested; tone stony.

The doctor vehemently shook his head, “N-no. they didn’t say, that’s all I know, I swear!”

“They didn’t mention anythin’ to the captured officers?”

“If they did, the information wasn’t disclosed to me.”

She growled, tears flooding her vision as she kicked the desk nearby, making the boombox crash to the floor and break.

“W-Wait! They said something about getting an escaped ward they had with them back home. Maybe they went there, but-but I don’t know where that was, I promise. I promise I don’t know. I’d tell you if I did, I promise.” The man continued to cry, still clutching his leg, still watching the broken, unpredictable woman with a terrified fixation.

She blinked, allowing the tears to fall as she hushed the man, using a gentler, quieter tone as she approached.

“It’s okay.” She assured him, watching him relax a little before she put the gun to his forehead and pulled the trigger.

 “I believe you.” she finished hollowly.

~

She’d wanted to feel empty, but she hadn’t quite expected it to feel…  like this. She wandered back up to the room the wards had been in to find them still huddled. They began to cry again when they saw her approach, but when they took in her lost and broken expression, they stopped, staring at her with morbid curiosity.

“Would any of you happen to know,” she started weakly, “where I can find my shit.”

One of the wards hesitantly got up, and she motioned for him to lead her as he moved from the room, eyeing the gun in her hand. She flipped the safety on and tucked it into the elastic of her scrub pants, holding up her emptied hands to let him know she wasn’t going to shoot.

Satisfied, the elderly man waddled down the halls with (y/n) following quietly behind him, not even the sound of footsteps from behind him to let him know she was there; only the potent hopeless fog surrounding the woman.

When they came to a storage room, she found her pants, shirt, boots, and jacket easily enough, numbly changing into them, not even caring that she had an audience. She then rummaged through a box of confiscated knives, finding her two sai easily enough, and with a little panicked digging, she found the dagger Daryl had gifted her as well. She moved to clip it to her belt loop and realized she’d lost quite a bit of weight during her time being sick and lost even more in the added time she’d been trapped here. Her pants didn’t fit like they once had. She’d need a belt.

Looking around, she spotted one placed on top of a police uniform. She took it, and while she was at it, she also swiped a few more things, mainly belt pouches, extra clips of ammo, a gun holster and a Kevlar vest. Satisfied, she was about to leave when something glinting in the lamplight caught her eye. A gold, heart-shaped locket. Curiously, she held it up to the light before prying open the charm to find hidden inside a picture of two much younger girls than the ones she knew, but there was no mistaking Beth and Maggie in the picture. Beside them was a boy, who she assumed would have been their brother whom she’d never gotten to meet.

The elderly man in the doorway watched her as her face contorted, trying not to pout as she started to cry again.

“When Beth was killed… Was she scared? Was she in pain?” (y/n) asked him weakly.

The man shook his head. “She was brave. She told Dawn she understood and stabbed her in the shoulder with a pair of scissors. The gun going off was an accident.”

(y/n) looked up at the ceiling trying to keep the tears at bay, but it was no use. She caught them before they could fall down her cheeks.

“Good girl.” (y/n) uttered finally, Clasping the locket around her neck.

“Exit?” she asked with a sniff, the man pointed to a set of double doors at the end of the hall and informed her they were locked.

She wandered over, shooting at the door handles, and shoving the broken doors open. She didn’t look back as she walked out into the world, wandering aimlessly through the city as the sky turned pink, a new day just beginning.


	35. And Her Huntsman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some of y'all getting mad at Beth and Noah for not saying anything, and i'm here to absolve them of guilt. Y'all really think my boy didn't try to get her out???

Beth had been steeling herself throughout the entire hostage situation. She just knew something was going to go wrong, but as she was shoved across the hall into Rick’s protective grasp she began to relax. He was alive. So was Tyreese and Sasha, and hopefully, everyone else. Her gaze finally fell on Daryl. He moved to pull her into a hug, but hesitated, and simply clapped a hand on her shoulder and nodded.  Seeing him made something flash in her mind.

The image of (h/c) hair strewn about an obstructed head laying on a hospital pillow.

 “Wait, Daryl, I think that-”

before she could get another word in Dawn interrupted, “Now, I just need Noah,” the whole room muted, “and then you can leave.”

~

Dawn struggled to seem in control like she was the one who’d had leverage, but she wasn’t fooling anyone. She claimed she needed Noah back because they were taking her ward, but really, she just wanted to prove to her officers that she wasn’t a pushover.

“The boy wants to go home, so you have no claim on him.”

“Then we don’t have a deal.”

“The _deal_ is _done_.”

Noah watched, with rising panic. This was going to end tragically; he could just tell. He had one more idea, it might not work, but at this point, they were out of options.

“I-it’s okay,” he started, limping forward.

“No, no.” Rick started to argue, but Noah refused.

“I gotta do it.”

He moved towards the center of the hall, eyeing Dawn as he said, “I’ll stay, but in exchange, you let Snow White go with them.”

It was a long shot for a bunch of reasons; One: Dawn might refuse. Two: the comatose woman might not wake up in time to cause a scene and help them escape. Three: if she did wake up, she definitely wouldn’t be on Dawn’s side, but there’s no guarantee she’d be on their side, either. Still, there was a chance.

“Snow White? Who the hell is Snow White?” Rick growled, getting more and more frustrated by the second.

“She’s a Jane Doe we picked up a week and a half ago, she’s been under anesthesia while she recovers.” Dawn informed flatly.

Beth ran up, tugging Rick’s arm with urgency as she tried to inform, “Rick, I heard her description, I got a peek at her, I really think she’s-”

“What she is, is not part of the deal. She and Noah are both staying right here.”

Noah sighed shakily, “Listen, Dawn, let her go with them. You saw what she was like when she first came in, she doesn’t belong here. She’ll destroy this place.”

Dawn’s eyebrows furrowed and she dropped her gaze to the floor in thought while Noah continued.

“I know you’re afraid of her, and that’s why you’re keeping her under, but you don’t have to. Let them take her out of here. I’ll stay, she goes, you don’t have to waste any more resources trying to keep her under control.”

Dawn began to nod, finally agreeing, and Noah felt the creeping sense of dread. What had he just done? The last time he tried to use her unpredictability to get out of here, she hadn’t even been strong enough to fight off Dr. Edwards. Was this a mistake? Did he just toss his life away? He looked back at Beth, who was rushing forward to wrap him in a hug.

She was getting out. Even if he was trapped here, she’d be with her family, and the comatose woman would be free. He’d find some other way out of here.

“I knew you’d be back,” Dawn whispered sagely.

He felt Beth stiffen against him and slowly detach from the hug. What Dawn had said must have set her off, because she was eyeing the woman with thinly veiled hatred.

“I get it now.”

She lodged something in Dawn’s shoulder, there was a gunshot, and then she hit the floor.

Noah stood in shock, staring down at Beth’s body as Rick forced him back behind him and another gunshot rang out.

~

“We’re taking anyone back there who wants to leave,” Rick called when the dust had finally, and tragically settled, “If you want to come with us, just step forward now.”

Around the corner at the end of the hall, Snow White lay unconscious in her glass coffin, deaf to the call. The Evil Queen had been slain, but she continues to lay, asleep, and un-kissed. Her huntsman doesn’t know she’s even there. Even if he did, his kiss could not wake her.

 He was no Prince Charming, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyway, I'll probably post a longer chapter later today, i just thought I'd post this to give you a clear idea of what happened. Also a few of you are starting to guess at where she ends up, and I have two ideas i'm tossing about, and now I have to choose soon. I'm leaning towards the fluffier one that gets the reader home quicker. At first, I wanted to explore how being on her own and having no outlet to control her darkness (like protecting those she cares for) starts to harden her and make her more and more morally gray and how she needs others to keep her from becoming a monster, but now I think I want to focus more on her attachment to her family and her desperation to keep them from leaving her, and how she has to learn to accept that everything ends, and to appreciate everything she's had instead of struggling to hold on to what she's losing. Anyway, this is a long way of saying you guys are predicting where she's going to end up, and you're all wrong.


	36. Picking Up the Trail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be the last bit of Reader POV for a few chapters. on the plus side, you guys have been asking for more Daryl POV so you'll be getting a bit of that after this.

(y/n)’d been wandering a stretch of road for a while. She didn’t really have any destination, and she just sort of felt dead. What was even the point? If someone had seen her walking around, they’d assume she was a walker from the way she meandered, and (y/n) mused that there probably wasn’t that much of a difference between her and a walker at this point.

They were both dead, both wandered without purpose.

Both killed without reason.

What she’d done hadn’t bothered her, and that really bothered her. Especially because it forced her to think about Merle, and what he told her about darkness before he left.

 She chose to abandon dwelling on it as she came across an etching in the bark of a tree. A circle with an X in the center. Looking beyond it, she realized there was one in the tree behind it as well, making a trail through the woods.

Like the walker she was, she followed the noise blindly.

~

The trail ended at the edge of the tree line, a line straight through the bark of a tree signifying that the edge of a churchyard was where the path finished.

She wandered through the graveyard making her way to the front of the church. A battle took place here. Pipes from the church organ were arranged like pikes around the doorway, and several sliced-up corpses littered the floor of the entryway. She stepped around them, making her way to the alter, noticing that there was a candle still burning, and a snack on the table. Judging from the lack of dust covering it, it was placed there recently. She wasn’t alone.

Swiftly, she moved to unclip her pistol from her belt, but heard the briefest rustle of movement behind her and froze, feeling what she assumed was the barrel of a gun at the back of her head. Slowly, she lifted her hands up, getting ready to spin and disarm her assailant at any second, but he spoke before she could do a thing.

“How many walkers you killed?” came a calm, rough voice.

“Excuse me?” she sputtered, completely caught off guard, “what the fuck did you just say to me?”

“I’m asking the questions.” He made his point by pressing the weapon further against her head, “how many walkers have you killed?”

She closed her eyes, already knowing the next two questions, having asked the same series many, many times before.

“Countless.”

“How many people?”

“….”

“I said how many-”

“Nine.”

“…Why?”

(y/n) took a long, heavy breath.

“The first one was a threat to my people. Threw a walker at my brother. The next eight shot me in the leg, kidnapped me, an’ kept me comatose for close to a month, kept me from reuniting with my group. They also killed a teenage girl I used to know.”

“So, you’re looking for your family, then.” The man stated finally.

“Yeah, I reckon you know ‘im, since you knew to ask me those questions.”

“Rick Grimes… is he your brother?” the man questioned hesitantly.

“In every way but blood an’ marriage. Not that it matters now, I doubt I’ll ever find ‘im again. Or any of the others.” She confirmed, putting her hands down and turned around when she felt the weapon lower from her head.

She was surprised to find out that it had not been a gun at all, but was in fact, the end of a bow staff.

“Morgan.” The man introduced, sticking out his hand for her to shake, she took it.

“(n/n).”

The man named Morgan laughed, pulling a folded paper from his pocket, waving it slightly as he held up the writing on it for her to read. When she did, her eyes grew wide and bright. Hope filling her for the first time in what felt like years.

A map, highlighting a route from Georgia to DC. Her brother’s name scrawled across it with a rough, aggressive lettering.

“You feel like taking a road trip, (n/n)?”

~

They’d been walking for a day and a half, keeping a lookout for cars to take as they went along.

“So, how’d you meet him, (n/n), if he’s not your brother by blood?” Morgan asked curiously as they stomped across the hot pavement.

“I was assistant to the director of the Georgia CDC. Rick an’ his group came looking for shelter an’ safety, not knowin’ that my boss had locked me in there an’ that the buildin’ was rigged to detonate. We escaped the facility 15 seconds before it went up in flames, I’d been rollin’ with ‘em ever since, save for the few times we were separated.”

“So, he’s kept his group alive all this time…” Morgan murmured, bewilderment edging his tone.

“Well, no. We’ve gained a few and lost… a lot. But yes, mostly, they’re alive...I hope… I hope.” She whispered the last part, and Morgan gave her a sympathetic smile.

“we’ll find them.” he assured, and though she didn’t quite feel it she gave him a smile right back.

“So what about you, how’d you meet ‘im?”

Morgan laughed, though it was sad sounding as he responded, “my son thought he was a walker. Hit him over the head with a shovel.”

(y/n) gave a small giggle but didn’t press for details. His son wasn’t here now, and she knew what that meant. She wasn’t going to pry.

“But... you’ve been with him for how long?”

“goin’ on three years.” (y/n) mused, to which Morgan gave a low whistle.

“Of course, we got separated a few times. Once at a farm out near the highway to Fort Bennin’ an’ then again when our prison was attacked by a mad man with a tank. Had to cover myself in walker guts to escape both times, though I wasn’t lucky ‘nough to find ‘em within forty-eight hours the second time ‘round.”

Morgan hummed like he was impressed, “Still lucky, though.”

“Sooner or later, luck runs out.”

Morgan stopped her with a hand on her arm, “Hey, don’t say that. Your luck won’t. You’re going to make it, I know. I can see it in the way you carry yourself, and the way you observe the things around you. You know how things work. You know what needs to be done, and you’re willing to do it.”

She stared at him a second before she gave a small smile, “Yeah, I’m startin’ to wonder if that’s not part of the problem. A man I used to know once said: ‘the world we know is gone, but keepin’ our humanity is a choice’. I’m startin’ to think it’s not.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, concern littering his features.

She hesitated. Should she tell him? She was going to be travelling with him for a while it seemed, she might as well.

“I wasn’t… completely honest before. The ninth person… wasn’t one of the people holdin’ me hostage, though he was with them. He was the doctor lookin’ after their… ‘patients’. He kept me under anesthesia for three weeks; he didn’t really have a choice, an’ he was scared, I know that. But at the time… it didn’t matter. I asked him for information, an’ I didn’t like the answers he gave me. That’s not _why_ I killed him, it’s just what happened before I did. I shot him because… I wanted to. At the time I did, anyway.”

It was quiet, the birds in the trees had stopped singing for just this moment.

“Do you think… I can come back from somethin’ like that?”

It took a minute, and it started off so subtly that it took a moment for (y/n) to realize that Morgan was nodding. Not convinced, but satisfied, she turned to continue walking, but Morgan’s next comment made her stop again, though she didn’t turn to face him.

“Do you regret it? Killing those people?”

She closed her eyes tight, reliving the moment over and over again looking to feel… anything. When she came up blank, she just started walking again.

“I asked you a question, (n/n).”

“An’ when I have an answer, I’ll give it to you,” she snapped.

~

They settled down for the evening, neither one had spoken since their conversation a few miles back. They were currently hiding out in an autobody shop. (y/n) made a comment about trying to fix up one of the cars the following morning, and Morgan made a noncommittal grunt as he turned over and went to sleep. She was disheartened that her companion seemed upset with her, but she couldn’t bring herself to regret telling him. It’d been weighing on her, simply because she knew it should. What she’d done was monstrous, and she seemed perfectly okay with that. Well, not okay, but she wasn’t horrified.

She closed her eyes, drifting into a dreamless slumber. She hadn’t missed a wink of sleep since the incident.

She awoke slowly, and then all at once, suddenly alert after realizing the sun was too bright for it to be as early as they’d planned on setting out again. She sat up quickly, whipping around to wake Morgan only to realize he wasn’t there. He and his gear were gone, no sign that he was anywhere about. She called out to him once, and then again at a louder volume, but there was no answer.

she brought her hands to her eyes, rubbing the crust of sleep from them before putting the palms of her hands together and covered her mouth, wresting her chin on her thumbs.

“Shit.” She whispered.

Abandoned. Again.


	37. update

hey, so I haven't posted in a little bit, and it was because we're entering the forking path of the two narratives I was trying to decide between. There was one that was fluffier and had more filler in it where the reader managed to find everyone and she became more devoted and began to lack remorse for those opposing her family so she could keep them safe and together, and another more angsty one that jumped forward, she got to DC but didn't find them, and in fact, ran into Jesus, who offered to help her find the others in exchange for her becoming his partner, helping him scavenge for supplies for the hilltop, and had the reader be colder and callus towards everyone around her, being more reluctant to open up to new people.

I'm still not sure which one to pick, I know I made a similar announcement some chapters back, but I figured now that we're here I'd give you guys a bit more info and see if there was a more divisive preference for what you guys would want to read. I am, first and foremost, writing this for myself, and I'm leaning towards her finding Alexandria, but every time I begin to actively pursue that route, ideas and scenes from the other route pop in my head. I feel like at some point I'm just going to write the other version of whatever plot I chose and post it as an alternate ending fic that I put in a series with this one.

so, yeah.

does the reader find Alexandria and have a bunch of fluffy and emotionally gut-punching moments with the gang, or does she find Jesus and the Hilltop, and broodily pine for her loved ones?

p.s. I've played with the idea of adding in some low-key smut chapters but at this point, we're so far in and I've been skirting around it I didn't want to just suddenly put a sex scene in, but on the other hand, it does already come with the mature content warning on it. Idk.

let me know. in the meantime I'll start writing some scenes that are rolling around in my head so I don't lose them.


	38. The Space Between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ATTENTION****
> 
> It's been 1,000 years, but I've finally decided what I'm going to do! SO I've decided to go the Jesus route, but if that's not the one you wanted to read, have no fear! I will be attaching the other route to this fic as a sort of 'series au' thingy, so keep an eye out for that. I will not be releasing them in tandem, and it won't be that many chapters, I'll just cover the part until the story lines converge in to one. The series after the plot divergence would have a few altered details, but not enough to warrant re-posing the same chapters over again so :P. Anyways, from this moment on, I shouldn't have a hiatus that lasted as long as this one did. Thanks for your support and patience everyone!

Daryl stomped into the house exhausted, the smell of something good hitting his nostrils as soon as he was past the threshold. Everything was warm and clean and bright, a part of him thought he’d stepped into the wrong house. This didn’t look like his childhood home, but a good look around told him that even though the peeling wallpaper had been torn away and the walls painted a nice soft yellow, the furniture replaced with new, nicer looking copies, and the atmosphere was, in general, lighter, it was still his house.

The call of, “welcome home, Lover,” drew him out of his thoughts and towards the kitchen. She was there, apron draped over a pretty white sundress, hair tied back in a braid down her back. his focus zeroed in on her as she turned to smile her dazzling smile at him. he hadn’t seen her in weeks. Wait. No. It’d only been hours, right? “How was work?”

“Fine,” he felt himself saying, only just thinking to look down and notice he was wearing a mechanic jumpsuit covered in motor oil, “The guys at work are all idiots, though, caught a pic of you an’ the little one on my desk an’ wouldn’t stop makin’ kissy noises at me.”

She laughed, and it was beautiful, but it was wrong. She didn’t laugh like that.

“Daddy!”

at the call, a rambunctious little boy with his mother’s (h/c) hair came rushing at him. He picked the boy up, but when he did, the boy was gone. Instead, it was a little girl that looked just exactly like him, but fortunately, she had just enough of (y/n)’s features to make her very, very cute.

“Hey, Princess.” he cooed at her.

“Thought I was Princess.” he heard (y/n) say with some amusement, and when he looked back, the previously empty table was now set, and covered in food.

he set the kid down and they rushed off to sit at the table, but the child that popped up in the seat was a little boy, who was different, but again unmistakable as their child.

“Well, you’re a Queen now, ain’t ya?”

She smiled brightly as he took a seat. The second he did the food had vanished, and nothing was left but dirty dishes. She’d stood back up collecting the plates. Outside, at the door, he heard a knock. well, not a knock, more like a thump. He looked over at the door and moved to get up and check, but he was stopped when he heard her speak again.

“I got a promotion, I’m Assistant Director, now. Dr. Jenner is such a nice man.”

He turned back, the last bits of daylight that had been present when he’d walked in now completely gone from the windows, and the child hadn’t changed again, they’d disappeared completely.

Daryl felt himself getting up from the table despite his bit of confusion. He moved his way around the table, pushing her braid aside and finding her hips as he began kissing his way up her neck.

She squirmed gleefully under his affections but swatted at him with a sponge, “you smell like an engine block. You’re gonna have to shower ‘fore I’m willin’ to do anythin’.”

“Any way I can convince you to join me for that?” he growled out, one arm moving to wrap around her stomach as the other began wandering under her skirt.

she deftly removed his hands and released them to spin around in his hold, now fondly moving her palms up his chest. He returned his touch to her, this time having it settle firmly on her ass.

“No, but if you help with the dishes, then later tonight I’ll do that thing you like.”

He groaned, pulling her closer. There were more thuds then, this time at the back door. He thought about investigating but ultimately ignored it. More important things were going on.

He turned back to his wife, but in the time he’d had his eyes off her, she’d shifted. her hair was still in a braid, but it was dirty, and messy, now. The white dress was now a torn sweater over a tank top, with dirty, bloody, hole-filled jeans and her face, once clean and fair with a sultry look was now dirty, scarred, and urgent.

“Daryl, you gotta find me,” she pleaded, shaking him slightly, “I’m still out there, you know I am!”

His brows furrowed, “ain’t you right here?”

She shook him harder, “No, I’m not, I’m lost an’ alone!”

The banging from outside got louder and more urgent, the growls of walkers could be heard now, and not just one or two, but at least a few dozen.

She continued to shake him, pleading to be found as they burst through the glass of the windows and began to crawl into the house from all sides. He clutched (y/n) to his body, but she shoved him back, still shaking at his shoulders and calling to him as they began to be swarmed by the undead.

“Daryl, Daryl! Daryl…”

~

“Daryl,” Rick whispered, finally shaking the guy awake.

he sat up quick, breathing heavy as he blinked and looked around, trying to come back and assess his whereabouts. Rick crouched at his side, eying the dazed and anxious expression on his friend’s face.

“You okay, Brother?”

Daryl nodded jerkily, rubbing his eyes and grunting.

“Good, because we’re gonna head out, soon. We’re heading up to Richmond.”

He sucked his teeth at that, shaking his head in disagreement.

“Nah, _you’re_ goin’, I’m gonna stay here.”

It wasn’t that he particularly wanted to stay, or that he didn’t want to be with the group anymore, he just- He couldn’t. Not until he found her or knew for sure she was gone. He owed Beth that much owed (n/n) much more than that.

“Daryl, she’s…” Rick trailed off at Daryl’s glare at first, but then he sighed, looked down, and in a more defeated and final tone said, “she’s gone.”

“She ain’t. She’s out there.”

They hadn’t really had this conversation, neither of them really wanted to, though it was always in the air when they spoke about a next move.

“Daryl, if she was out there, we would have run into her by now. She would have been at Terminus.”

He huffed, getting up from where he’d been laying to pace. “She would have stayed to look for _you_. She put all her trust in you, she’d follow you anywhere, an’ you’re just gonna leave her out there?”

“You think I don’t care? You think it doesn’t kill me to think I might be leaving her behind? We don’t have a choice. If we stay, we put everyone else at risk.”

“Then don’t stay,” Daryl huffed, “not like I need your help to find ‘er.”

“You’re right, you don’t need us,” Rick appeased, “but we need you. We’re not going to make it out there without you.”

Daryl pouted, staring off into the woods beyond the chapel as if he expected (y/n) to just appear out of the tree line any second.

“Look, I get it, you know I do. Hell, I handcuffed your brother to a roof to get back to _my_ wife,” if Rick had expected a laugh for that, he would have been disappointed, “I know you think you failed her by not being with her when the prison fell, but leavin’ everyone here to wander around and probably get yourself killed lookin’ for her; that’s not how you make it up to her. She wouldn’t want you to be alone again.”

“How the hell would you know what she’d want? Ever since we found the prison, you were either yellin’ at her, or playin’ farmer and avoidin’ everyone!”

“I know.”

It was quiet at that. Daryl had wanted to argue- to yell and let off steam, but Rick had just…agreed. It knocked the fight right out of him like a punch to the gut would. There’s a beat of silence in the air as they just look at each other.

“She hates bein’ left behind, Rick.”

“Yeah, I know,” he moved forward to place a reassuring hand on Daryl’s shoulder. It was shoved off, so he just sighed and turned to leave after saying:

“You’ll never be able to move on if you keep chasin’ ghosts.”


End file.
